


The Nighthawk

by Remembrance



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Clans and Tribes, Dark Fantasy, Dark Mage - Freeform, M/M, Social Awkwardness, Spirits, Swords & Sorcery, Thunder and Lightning, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-20 15:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13720155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remembrance/pseuds/Remembrance
Summary: When Akaashi had said a clan of warriors had no need for a mage—Bokuto clasped his hand, begged him to stay. Yes, Bokuto, that was why Akaashi stayed. Bokuto made him strong. But… when Bokuto goes missing, and strange creatures surround their encampment… Akaashi finds he’ll need more than memories to keep himself strong.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>   **Hold up!** Nikooki, who is also my beta, fantastically drew Akaashi in his dark mage outfit from this story and it looks _so fucking good._ Please check it out on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/nikooki_kyuu/status/965071197120720897) and [Tumblr!!](http://nikooki.tumblr.com/post/171000556243/an-akaashi-for-remembrance123s-new-fic-please) Like seriously, I am... _blessed._ Please. I will beg if I have to. Just click the link. Please.
> 
>  I update every Saturday or Sunday. I tried a lot of new things with this fic so, as a creative project, it was a lot of fun to outline and write! It's my first time writing main pair BokuAka (about time, tbh) but, anyway. I really hope you enjoy the first chapter. Thank you for reading! <3
> 
> * * *

_In a tent made of stretched leathers, laden with warm smoke that twirled upwards and left through the top, Akaashi stood, eyes wide, staring at the man in front of him. “Bokuto,” he whispered quietly. “What… is that?”  
   
 “Here.” Bokuto tossed up a yellow stone and caught it. It was golden, shimmering. A gemstone. Shining, powerful. Without having to explain, they both knew it was Bokuto’s most treasured object. “I wanna give it to you, Akaashi.” He grinned wide. “It’s okay if you don’t want to give me yours yet, but—”   
   
 “Bokuto.” Akaashi steeled himself. He felt tremors from deep inside him threaten to shatter him. Instead, he quietly asked, “Do you understand what you are saying by this?”   
   
 “Of course!” Bokuto pouted. “I’m not Clan Leader for nothing, Akaashi…”   
   
 “That’s.” Akaashi squished his eyes closed, wincing at himself. “That’s not what I meant, Bokuto. I’m just.” He opened his eyes. “I’m asking if you really want this?”   
   
 “I’m giving you my gem, my life.” Bokuto offered the yellow stone again. “I’m asking you for marriage, Akaashi… to live our lives together. Like I said, you don’t have to give me your stone if you don’t want to, but—”   
   
 “I am not worthy,” the words slipped out before Akaashi could hold them back. Give Bokuto his stone? Akaashi would give him a thousand stones, and still not be worthy of—_    
   
 Smoke.   
   
 Ashen smoke.   
   
 Not the warm smoke of a campfire; no, this was the wretched smell of burnt hair, burning of flesh. Akaashi’s eyes snapped open. He was in a tent, yes. Not the same tent. No. Not Bokuto’s tent. He glanced around, remembering where he was. Akaashi pushed himself up.   
   
 His body ached.   
   
 Akaashi hid the pain from his face and took a deep breath. He looked around for his staff and found it lying next to him. He reached for it, and winced. A pained noise left his throat and he grimaced.   
   
 “Oh!” came a surprised voice.   
   
 Akaashi glanced over.   
   
 Konoha.   
   
 Although Akinori Konoha was one of Bokuto’s friends, he was someone Akaashi actively avoided. Then again, Akaashi actively avoided most people. Konoha wasn’t a bad person, as far as Akaashi knew, but that didn’t mean there was trust between them.   
   
 Konoha was sitting on a chair, chewing on something. He got up and swallowed. “You alright there?”   
   
 “Yes.” Akaashi grabbed his staff, made of warped and twisted blackwood, crowned by a crystalline purple focus stone. He used it to help himself up, despite the pain, and ignored Konoha’s gaze on him. “I needed some rest, but I am fine now.”   
   
 “Are you sure?” Konoha’s face distorted into a frown. “We were pretty worried about you.”   
   
  _Lies,_  Akaashi didn’t say, but wanted to. Instead, he glanced to Konoha and murmured, “I am ready to heal more of the wounded. I shall go do so now.”   
   
 Konoha took a step back as Akaashi walked past him. “Don’t you want to rest a bit more?”   
   
  _Again with their distrust,_  Akaashi thought to himself, but his expression was calm and collected – controlled. “I am capable, and it is best we get everyone up and ready to move quickly.”   
   
 Konoha didn’t argue, thankfully, but he followed Akaashi out of the tent and to the outpost.   
   
 Or what was left of the outpost.   
   
 Within their dark forest, the canopy of branches and trees blocked out most of the sky. Skyglade was a favoured outpost, as it was on a hill that could see the sky in abundance. Akaashi had always loved it here. Bokuto had too. Bokuto. It stung, the very thought of it, but Akaashi glanced around.   
   
 The defenses – boards and spikes, makeshift walls, and an archery tower – were worn down and broken. It was though something acidic had taken a bite out of everything. There had been deaths, unsurprisingly, but not as many as they’d expected.   
   
 Akaashi walked over to where the wounded lay.   
   
 They looked at him suspiciously, but did not try to fight him when he inspected their wounds.   
   
 Tapping the bottom of his staff to ground himself, Akaashi took a deep breath. He aimed the tip towards the wounded area and he felt as though he lost himself. Akaashi’s eyes were usually a dull grey-blue, possibly grey-green in some lights. But when he focused, a light of unexplained monochrome seemed to haunt like a backlight. He could see the wounded react to his eyes, but soon their focus moved to the healing of the wounded area.   
   
 Akaashi prioritized legs over anything. Those who were not able to move themselves would have to be moved by others. It was times like these he wished Bokuto was around.   
   
 Bokuto always had solutions for making the most out of only a little.   
   
 Bokuto always had the power to raise morale, even in the face of utter defeat.   
   
 Akaashi paused mid-spell.   
   
 This wounded person was not looking at him, but past him.   
   
 Akaashi glanced behind him. “Yes?”   
   
 “Kenma,” the boy said. “My name.”   
   
 Akaashi turned to fully face him. Kenma wore mostly black leather. He held no insignia of tribe or clan, but Akaashi had a feeling he knew who this boy belonged to. ‘Boy’, boy was not the right term. Kenma’s shorter stature and lighter frame weren’t that misleading: It was the fact Kenma made himself as small as possible, on purpose, that gave him the look of someone who wasn’t in their twenties and far more war-torn than anyone else.   
   
 “You. Are Akaashi… yes?”   
   
 “Yes, I am.” Akaashi tilted his head. “And you are Nekoma’s Kozume.”   
   
 “Mm.” Kenma nodded. “Kuro requests you. Storm Tree.”   
   
 Akaashi’s jaw tensed. “Then who am I to refuse a Tribe Leader? Allow me a moment to heal a few more, then you can lead the way.”   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 The movement through the woods was comfortably silent. As soon as Kenma realised Akaashi was capable of keeping up with his current pace, he sped up. It happened a few times until the crossing distance was a comfortable but impressive rate. Akaashi assumed Kenma had started slow because he hadn’t expect a mage to be able to keep up. Though, to be fair, Akaashi’s feet were barely touching the ground.   
   
 They arrived at Storm Tree – the largest tree in the forest. Put plainly, it was seen as the mother of the forest by the tribes and clans. Akaashi had dismissed it as stupidity as a child, thinking of course humans would look at the biggest thing in existence and say it was magical; however, as time went on, he felt the spellpower that flowed from its great roots and branches, quickly understanding its importance.   
   
 It was the seat of power.   
   
 Usually, this was where Bokuto would stay, as Clan Leader of the Four Tribes. Akaashi lived here most of the time, with Bokuto. He had his own place, a home carved atop a high tree, but he did spend most nights in Bokuto’s tent. Now, though, without Bokuto around, Akaashi was strangely comforted by the sight of Kuroo taking charge of the camp.   
   
 Storm Tree was in disarray, panic.   
   
 But Kuroo spoke firm and low, giving orders and getting things done.   
   
 Akaashi didn’t know when Kenma left his side, but he approached Kuroo on his own. “Tribe Leader.”   
   
 Kuroo glanced at him and the tension in his face melted.   
   
 Akaashi raised an eyebrow. “You’re happy to see me?”   
   
 “Ah, well.” Kuroo took a breath. “Yes.” He put a hand on his hip. “Of course I am. Bokuto’s missing, probably dead, and Shinzen wants to send an offensive force out into the woods.”   
   
 “That will not work.”   
   
 “Exactly.” Kuroo’s eyes hardened. “But I’m not Clan Leader. Nekoma and Shinzen are equals right now.”   
   
 “You can’t order Shinzen to halt,” Akaashi murmured, “But neither can I. I am not Bokuto.”   
   
 “Look, Akaashi. You and me… we don’t know each other, but I trust Bokuto. He says you’ve got common sense. If we can work together to stop Shinzen from—”   
   
 Kenma clasped Kuroo’s elbow from the inside. “Shinzen comes.”   
   
 Ogano Daiki was a name Akaashi far too often forgot, instead referring to him as ‘broccoli’ (thanks to Bokuto’s influence), but now Daiki’s serious expression seemed haunting.   
   
 “Ogano,” Kuroo said with a forced smile. “I’m sure you’ve met Bokuto’s partner, Akaashi. He was at Skyglade. He was just telling me we shouldn’t focus on the offensive right now.”   
   
 “The beasts that attacked our outposts were oily shadows,” Akaashi explained calmly. “Regular weapons can be effective, but they have a hard time defeating them. The enemy is magical in nature. Oil from evening primrose helps physical weapons to pierce their veil, though. We will not be able to protect gathering parties if we divert our forces for an offensive right now.”   
   
 Daiki crossed his arms, frowning. He hummed.   
   
 Kuroo glanced to Akaashi. “What do you think is best?”   
   
 Akaashi held back the urge to scowl. “I agree with Tribe Leader Kuroo. It’s best we keep our forces gathering oil and fortifying our defences. An offensive now would leave us wide open for another assault.”   
   
 “Well.” Daiki sighed loudly. “It makes sense, but I don’t like this… We all know the rumours, eh?” He glanced to Akaashi. “Fukurodani’s great enemy was an oily shadow, wasn’t it? The one that killed the last Clan Leader?”   
   
 Akaashi tensed.   
   
 Kuroo waved his hand to wave the conversation away. “Yeah, yeah. But I think you should just stay here for the time being until we have more concrete details on this.”   
   
 Daiki nodded, clearly annoyed, but he turned away.   
   
 Kuroo glanced to Akaashi. “Well handled.”   
   
 “With Bokuto’s absence, Fukurodani has no Tribe Leader,” Akaashi explained. “This also means the Tribes have no Clan Leader. I do not know much about Shinzen or Ubugawa, if I am being honest, but knowing Bokuto – I would assume he would want you to be the acting Clan Leader until his return.”   
   
 “His return.” Kuroo’s eyes softened. “You think he’s alive?”   
   
 “Yes.”   
   
 Kenma made a noise, reminding them of his presence. “Why?”   
   
 Akaashi hesitated. The grip on his staff tightened but he supposed he had no choice. He reached into his robe and pulled out a yellow stone. Haunting. Beautiful. It reminded Akaashi too much of Bokuto’s eyes, the way they held such intensity. He held it protectively in his grip. If they tried to touch it, he would kill them. Though he assumed they knew.   
   
 “That’s…” Kuroo blinked and glanced up.   
   
 Kenma seemed less surprised. “The two of you are wed.”   
   
 “We.” Akaashi clutched the stone. “We were  _going_  to be. We made no announcement, as this was all a recent development… but these beasts struck before we made any… progress, on that front. Still.” He glanced to Kuroo. “This gem is a crystallisation of his life energy. I have attempted to locate him by tapping into the stone—”   
   
 “And?” Kuroo took a step forward. “Where is he!?”   
   
 “I cannot locate him, but his heart beats.” Akaashi glanced to the stone. “His soul… is in  _agony._  That is all I know.” He put the stone away, not wanting to see its haunting light anymore. “But what we do know is the clans are in a disarray. I’ve already spoken with the others at Fukurodani about this… Though I am not Tribe Leader, by my bloodline I would be the next in line  _if_  Bokuto were to die. By that right, Fukurodani gives you its blessing for you to be the  _Acting_  Clan Leader – until Bokuto’s return.”   
   
 Kuroo and Kenma both relaxed.   
   
 “Kuroo,” Akaashi went on, “This may give you stability and power to reign everyone in, but this is just a borrowed power. It will not last long. Shinzen and Ubugawa are as unstable as Nekoma is, and the people of Fukurodani will eventually try to take that power back if this goes on. I leave these political games to you. Meanwhile, I will focus on finding Bokuto.”   
   
 “Good.” Kenma nodded. “Kuro won’t be able to hold this shitshow together for long.”   
   
 “Kenma!”   
   
 “Hmph.”   
   
 “It’s true…” Kuroo sighed. He looked up to Akaashi. “We’ll hold down the fort, but you have  _got_  to find Bokuto.”   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
  _“I should leave the forest,” Akaashi murmured quietly. “I should leave the clan, the tribe… A clan of warriors has no need for a mage, they—”  
   
 Bokuto clasped his hand.   
   
 Akaashi, only thirteen at the time, glanced to their hands, then up to Bokuto.   
   
 “But that’s exactly why we need you, Akaaaaashi!” Bokuto’s face was serious. His eyes, golden, were haunting. “Stay.”   
   
 Akaashi felt his heart stop, and he had a feeling that he would never be able to leave. As long as Bokuto could tell him to stay, he would. He glanced away, not enjoying the power Bokuto had over him. “Why?”   
   
 “Because… I would be sad without you, ‘Kaashi. You see the best in me. You see the best in me so everyone else does too!”   
   
 Akaashi squished his eyes shut. “Bokuto.”   
   
 “Stay.”   
   
 “I’m branded!” Akaashi yelled, roared. Bokuto notably flinched, but didn’t let go of his hand. Akaashi squeezed it. “I’m branded…”   
   
 “So?” Bokuto smiled wide. “It’s just a tattoo.”   
   
 “It’s a mark! Of magic! A curse!”   
   
 “Who cares?” Bokuto brought Akaashi’s hand up to his lips and kissed it. “Stay.”_    
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 Akaashi pushed the memory out of his mind. It was too much, and honestly rather unnecessary. He moved through the darkwoods at an alarming pace. The roots and stones of the forest opened for him to whirl through; his feet never touched the ground. His staff was drawn, glowing as he tried to list the facts in his mind.   
   
 A sudden rise of beasts no one had ever seen before, attacks on several camps, Bokuto missing…   
   
 His robe, deep black, swayed with the movement. His cape was a cowl that looped around his neck like a scarf. His shoulder pads were adorned with skulls and black feathers.   
   
 The skulls had been gifts from Bokuto—his greatest kills. Akaashi wore them proudly.   
   
 He needed to find Bokuto.   
   
 He needed to find Bokuto, but  _how?_    
   
 A scream.   
   
 Akaashi paused, hanging in the air as he glanced to his right. He dashed in that direction and heard a clang of metal and some more shouting. He burst into a clearing and analysed the situation.   
   
 Two humans, wearing the red insignia, a huntress cat, and four oily shadows.   
   
  _Nekoma, here?_  He didn’t dwell on it. He spun, raising his staff skyward and thrusting it down.   
   
 Thunder speared down, exploding into a tangle of vines that forked in different directions. The burning hot white speared the beasts, sizzling them from the inside. The shadows were more liquid than solid, but their limbs spasmed until they burst.   
   
 Akaashi rested his staff and glanced to the humans.   
   
 The huntress cat – a large panther that one could ride, trained to hunt alongside humans – nuzzled his leg in thanks.   
   
 Akaashi pet the beast, scratching behind her ear.   
   
 “Lord Akaashi,” said one of the Nekomas. “I am Yaku, this is Lev, we are thankful for your help.”   
   
 “I am glad to be of service.” Akaashi raised an eyebrow. “May I ask what you are doing here? So far from any encampment?”   
   
 “Because this idiot!” Yaku spun around and kicked Lev in the shin. “Went running into the woods!”   
   
 Lev screamed and clutched his leg.   
   
 “And why, Lev, did you go running into the woods?”   
   
 “Ouch!” Lev whimpered a bit and looked up. “Because! Because I saw something! There was this shape, you know? Like it was all shiny, and glimmery, and it was like. It looked like a kid! And he was asking for help, so I went to help him! And then the beasts all came out and stuff!”   
   
 “A trap!” Yaku sighed. “A trap, Lev…”   
   
 “No!” Lev shook his head wildly. “Look, I know this sounds silly but… This light… it was like, soft, and baby blue… It was like the opposite of these oily shadows. I’m not a mage like er um yourself, Lord Akaashi, but my research—”   
   
 “Enough!” Yaku snapped his finger. His huntress jumped towards him and he got on. “Lev, stop talking about your damn work and keep yourself safe! Get on!”   
   
 Lev sulked before hopping behind Yaku. “Uh. Lord Akaashi?”   
   
 “Stay safe.” Akaashi hummed. “These woods are no longer ours.”   
   
 Lev nodded solemnly. Yaku gave thanks again and the two rode away.   
   
 Glimmering lights? Akaashi’s eyes narrowed. Hint, or trap?   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 Akaashi felt suffocated, slightly. Usually the forest was open to him, would tell him what was blowing in the winds. The ground would tell him what was going on in the soil. The rivers would tell him of water. He was often one with the forest, through his magic, but now it felt afraid; now, the forest was closed off from him.   
   
 Akaashi moved blind through the forest, unable to hear what he could usually hear, see what he could often see. He was on his own, but his own would have to be enough.   
   
 It would have to be.   
   
 A glimmer, a light.   
   
 Akaashi slowed down as a sliver of shining blue light, like a little thread moving through the air, hovered by him. It danced away, east.   
   
 Akaashi followed.   
   
 A trap.   
   
 Akaashi clutched his staff as he saw a gathering of oily shadows ahead. They didn’t seem to notice him, though. The light had not informed them? Akaashi looked around for that playful light, but saw nothing. He used a short gust of wind to take him atop one of the trees.   
   
 Climbing up to the top of the foliage, Akaashi glanced up at the dark sky. It was still a wonder every time he saw it. How wide, how everlasting it seemed. Akaashi looked around, eyes pausing on Storm Tree.   
   
 Akaashi tilted his head.   
   
 It looked different.   
   
 His eyes narrowed.   
   
 It looked, sickly?   
   
 Oh. Akaashi’s eyes widened.   
   
 Their great tree… was dying.   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 Akaashi returned to Storm Tree, seeing that the hustle and bustle of people moving was calmer, more focused, more organised. Whatever Kuroo had done was an impressive feat. Kuroo. He needed to find Kuroo. He didn’t find him at first, but made eye contact with Kenma across the camp. Kenma seemed to be entirely still, despite the camp’s rushed movement. Akaashi assumed that was because he wanted Akaashi to see him.   
   
 Kenma nudged his head left.   
   
 Akaashi followed and found Kuroo leaning over a pair.   
   
 Lev. Yaku.   
   
 Akaashi slid his staff on his back, to the holster that held it in place. He walked towards the group of them and made eye contact with Kuroo.   
   
 “Hey!” Kuroo stood up. “Rumour has it you saved these two.”   
   
 “I did.” Akaashi didn’t glance at them, eyes focused only on Kuroo. “Storm Tree.”   
   
 “Eh?”   
   
 “It’s dying.”   
   
 Kuroo stiffened and glanced upwards.   
   
 Lev and Yaku did the same.   
   
 Kuroo frowned. “Is it?”   
   
 “It is,” Kenma – who had joined them – said. “Branches… thinner.”   
   
 “Well.” Kuroo bit his lip. “We Nekoma aren’t usually around Storm Tree like you are every day, but if you’re saying it’s not looking too good…”   
   
 “This is what I was saying!” Lev yelled, “Yaku! I told you!”   
   
 Yaku frowned, glancing away.   
   
 “Lev.” Akaashi’s focus drifted to him. “Can you tell me more about the lights you saw?”   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
 There wasn’t much to go off. Lev’s descriptions about how the lights twisted to create forms was interesting, but overall they didn’t sound too different than the oily shadows. Akaashi needed to figure something out, needed more information. He could tell it was magical in nature, of course, but that did not mean much.   
   
 Akaashi went home.   
   
 A distance from Storm Tree, Akaashi’s home was carved into a tree, equipped with a few rooms, only basic necessities. Akaashi opened the drawer where he kept his most valuables.   
   
 To a passerby, a few acorns and leaves would be negligible…   
   
 …but to a forest mage—   
   
 “Water.” Akaashi grabbed his staff and aimed it at a small hole in the center of the room. “To the rivers that take our dead, I ask now for a mere pool to prevent abnormal death.” The tree lovingly filled the small hole with the water in its veins, and Akaashi silently thanked it. He grabbed his acorns and herbs and walked towards the pool. He crushed an acorn, wincing in the sacrifice.   
   
 An acorn was a seed, holding in it the knowledge of its predecessors. They held life, and life was the most powerful thing one could sacrifice for a spell.   
   
 He gave another thanks to the tree, but it held no animosity.   
   
 He hoped it would understand these were trying times.   
   
 He let the crumbling rubble of the acorn fall into the pool. He reached in his sleeve and pulled out a vial, a few drops of the oils from evening primrose. Soon, he added the leaves – sage for purification, bay leaves for clairvoyance.   
   
 With a snap of his wrist, candlelight burned all around him, darkening the room infinitely.   
   
 Now, all he needed was…   
   
 “Bokuto.” Akaashi grabbed the gemstone which shone bright in the room. “Show me Bokuto. I scry for Bokuto.”   
   
 The water’s surface rippled and strange colours shone monochrome on the liquid.   
   
 Akaashi focused, focused deeply.   
   
 Then he saw—   
   
 Akaashi frowned.   
   
 It was not Bokuto.   
   
 But it was light, shining blue glimmering light…   
   
 It was a person, a person made of that blue light.   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes narrowed.   
   
 It was a male, from what he understood. He was running, hiding. Trying to escape from the shadows. He had a terrible black burn on his arm, like the same corrosive acid that had eaten Skyglade’s defences.   
   
 “Where?”   
   
 Nothing.   
   
 Akaashi leaned closer to the water until—   
   
 Redwood. The being was leaning against redwood.   
   
 “Shinzen.” Akaashi got up and summoned his winds.   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
  _“Wow!” Bokuto’s eyes were wide and he was practically vibrating.  
   
 Akaashi blushed a bit at the attention, looking away. “What is it, Bokuto?”   
   
 “Well!” Bokuto grinned. “When you move like that… it’s like you’re wind. It’s like you fly, Akaashi.”   
   
 “I cannot fly, Bokuto. I am human.”   
   
 “But! Blah! It’s the same thing with your thunder!”   
   
 “Magic is different,” Akaashi murmured quietly.   
   
 “But, like.” Bokuto breathed heavily through his nose. “When you’re focused, Akaashi… it’s like your feet barely touch the ground. You’re magical, Akaashi. Everything about you is magical. You can fly.”_    
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 “There!” Akaashi’s eyes narrowed as he zoomed in on his prey. “You!”   
   
 The glimmer of lights glanced to the side.   
   
 No, this was—Akaashi’s eyes widened. Having no need to decelerate, he paused midair.   
   
 The light he had seen in his scrying was, at least what Akaashi could tell, male. This one was female, most likely. The important part to Akaashi, though, was that this not the one he saw. Then again, if they could change shape, perhaps…?   
   
 The glimmer of light turned to face him, eyes hollow, lost.   
   
 Akaashi felt a chill run down his spine. He grabbed his staff and angled his body as he pointed it towards her. “Are you friend or foe?”   
   
 “I am,” it spoke with a haunting resonance, like memories a person didn’t quite remember where they were from.   
   
 “You are…?” Akaashi’s eyes narrowed. “You are what?”   
   
 “I am… just, the will.” She glanced away from him, almost as if she was in a different space, a different time. “I am… lost. I’m not enough… I cannot grow… I cannot—”   
   
 “Spirit,” Akaashi snapped, “I need answers!”   
   
 The glimmer of lights dispersed.   
   
 “No!” Akaashi berated himself and closed his eyes. “Please, spirit… forgive my impatience… forgive my haste, and my anger…” He bit the inside of his cheek, lowering his head. “Someone I love dearly is missing… my people are in danger. This forest is in danger…” He put a hand to his heart. “I have no leads, no understanding of what has occurred… I am in dire need of your grace and wisdom, Forest Spirit.”   
   
 He felt a brush of heat.   
   
 When Akaashi opened his eyes, the girl was hovering above the ground, leaning in, face only an inch away from his.   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes widened.   
   
 “You have it, the will.” The girl moved back, eyes wide as if she had remembered something lost. “You are the mage who sings to us.”   
   
 “Mage yes,” Akaashi murmured, “Sing no.”   
   
 “Your spells, they weave power through the forest. They sing to the will, to me.” The girl smiled and put her hands behind her back. “I am Yachi, I am the forest’s will.”   
   
 Akaashi dropped to his knee, lowering his head. “I am Keiji Akaashi of Fukurodani, a simple forest mage.”   
   
 “Fukurodani,” Yachi repeated. “Ah!” She put her hands up to her face. “The owls! Y-Yes! I know them!”   
   
 Akaashi stood up slowly. “You do?”   
   
 “Yes… The King of Owls…” Yachi squished her eyes shut, shaking her head. “If I remember right… he is trying to destroy, the King of Owls.”   
   
 “Bokuto,” Akaashi whispered. “Who? Who is trying to destroy him?”   
   
 “We tried to stop him, but he descended from the sky… an aberration. Wrong. He was wrong! Twisted… insane…” Yachi shook her head. “We were sure we would win. With one great strike, he shattered our unity… the five of us… shattered, but still strong. We would still win.”   
   
 “But.” Akaashi’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t?”   
   
 “No, you see…” Yachi looked up then around; her form seemed to phase in and out of existence for a moment before her eyes looked at Akaashi again. “As long as the King of Owls lives, he can be defeated. Thus, he is trying to destroy the only thing that can stop him. But we struck hard, struck fast – our aim was true. We gave him a grievous wound that tore his form apart, and from the wound poured his blood.”   
   
 Akaashi listened.   
   
 “But, from his blood…” Yachi took a deep breath. “You must hurry! They are coming! They… the oily shadows are born from his blood. When we slashed his terrible form, his blood rained down, burned us, warped us, twisted us in his insanity! The forest  _cries._  The poison has seeped into the earth… Chaos is inevitable.”   
   
 Akaashi took a step forward. “Seeped into the earth…” He glanced left then his eyes darted to Yachi again. “Storm Tree. He has poisoned Storm Tree?”   
   
 “You must go! Return home, mage.” Yachi opened her hands and created a small sphere of light between her hands. “Your people are in danger. Go!”   
   
 “But—”   
   
 “I was lost, but now I am found. My mind is whole once again. The will has come again.” Yachi offered the tiny sphere of light. “Take this. You will get your answers in time, but for now—”   
   
 “For now,” Akaashi murmured as he took the orb of light. “Storm Tree…”   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 Akaashi had paused only to destroy scores of the oily shadows. He moved as fast as he could to Storm Tree. When he got there, his eyes widened. The gates were closing. He wouldn’t make it in time, but he vaguely heard someone sound a horn. The gate paused and he dashed through it.   
   
 The soldiers pulled the great gate closed.   
   
 Akaashi glanced around and his eyes widened. There were many, many people here. Far more than usual. Storm Tree was the seat of power, and could house every tribe; as it did during festivals, but this was no festival. Akaashi steeled himself when he felt a hand clasp on his shoulder.   
   
 “You’re damn lucky you made it here in time,” Kuroo explained. “We got everyone else here, but no matter where we looked, we couldn’t find you.”   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes examined him for a moment and then he nodded slowly. “What is the situation?”   
   
 “We’re pooling all our resources. These  _things_  are getting more aggressive. They’re going to launch an offensive soon.”  
   
 “Bokuto is at the heart of all of this,” Akaashi cut in. “I used my scrying to find what I believe was an ancient forest spirit. The King of Owls is our enemy’s goal.”   
   
 “King of—” Kuroo frowned. “You know Bokuto’s not an actual owl, right? He’s human.”   
   
 “Kuroo, I am  _well aware_  he is not a  _literal_  owl, however—”   
   
 “Look.” Kuroo’s eyes darkened. “I don’t understand any of your dreams or scrying or stones, okay? Magic is… I don’t get it. Maybe you’re on to something, maybe you’re not, but those gates are sealed now. We have to focus on the present.”   
   
 “Yes,” Akaashi replied, “But—”   
   
 “Kuro.” Kenma appeared at his side. “The fight is coming our way.” He glanced to Akaashi, giving him a nod, before looking to Kuroo again. “Get in position.”   
   
 Kuroo turned away and walked towards the other Tribe Leaders.   
   
 Akaashi’s face distorted into a scowl. He glanced to the high wall, where archers were lined atop the gates. Smacking the bottom of his staff against the soil, he warped upwards.   
   
 The archers recoiled a bit at his sudden presence.   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes widened.   
   
 The oily shadows, they had come in hundreds, marching together, marching as one.   
   
  _I’m sorry Bokuto,_  he gripped his staff tight and raised his chin.  _I know your soul is in agony…_  He aimed it down, getting ready for the fight to come.  _But you’ll have to wait a little longer._  


	2. Chapter 2

 Oily shadows, that was the only way Akaashi could describe it. The madness that these beings were was not easily understood. Akaashi could only surmise they were magical in nature, though his meeting with Yachi had shed some light on it. He thought back to that meeting, but had more questions than answers. Now, Akaashi stood atop the great wall. The archers lined up and got ready. Akaashi chose a spot between two of them that had some distance, near the middle.   
   
 “Akaashi.”   
   
 Akaashi didn’t look back. “Kenma.”   
   
 Kenma stepped forward, shoulder to shoulder with him, as he peered out to the crowd of beasts. “Tell me, of Fukurodani’s nemesis.”   
   
 Akaashi’s grip on his staff tightened, fingers curling further around the warpwood. “It appeared before my father passed,” he explained, “It was only after Bokuto took command of the clans that it faded away.”   
   
 Kenma’s eyes drifted to him. “And this, nemesis. Was this shape? What do your people call them?”   
   
 “Oily shadows,” Akaashi murmured. He watched the way they moved. “My mother left behind her paintings, swirls of oil, usually deep blues to show the night sky… The way our nemesis moved… like swirls of oil paint on a hide canvas… It was an apt name, or so we think.”   
   
 Kenma just nodded.   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes narrowed. “We called the beast our nemesis because it killed my father.”   
   
 “Your father,” Kenma murmured, “Was the Clan Leader before Bokuto?”   
   
 Akaashi blinked. He stiffened, turning to Kenma. “You’re…”   
   
 “I wasn’t born in these woods,” Kenma answered. His eyes focused on the beasts ahead. “I know it’s rare, to meet someone who comes here from beyond… It’s annoying. You all expect me to know your history. I don’t.”   
   
 “I’m sorry.” Akaashi nodded slowly. “Yes, my father’s name was Akaashi. Our family was the one who originally set up the Four Tribes, and the Clan as a whole. My father was Clan Leader, a well-respected man.”   
   
 Kenma hummed. “So, why then? Are you not Clan Leader? Why Bokuto?”   
   
 Akaashi glanced aside, eyes half-lidded. “I am a mage, Kenma. My father denounced me. I have been branded, marked as evil. Abhorrent.” Akaashi clicked his tongue and moved his staff aside, which sent ripples through his robe. “But that matters not to me now. I am a mage, I have my duties. I cannot be a Tribe Leader, or Clan Leader.”   
   
 Kenma raised an eyebrow.   
   
 “I do not need pity, Nekoma.”   
   
 “I give none.” Kenma pulled something out of his sleeve.   
   
 A knife?   
   
 A dagger.   
   
 “We are not warriors,” Kenma said simply. “I wield a blade, but I use speed not power. Stealth, not strength. You and I are the same in that regard.”   
   
 Akaashi tensed.   
   
 “I suppose I’ve always been different,” Kenma murmured. “But… Shouyou would’ve been proud of me, he—” His jaw snapped shut, as if he had said too much. He said nothing else, just turned and stepped off the wall.   
   
 Akaashi spun around, half expecting to see Kenma fall to his death, but he wasn’t too surprised to see Kenma gone, entirely.   
   
 “Odd one, ain’t he?” asked one of the archers.   
   
 Akaashi did not reply. He turned back to the beasts that were gathering. The attack would begin soon. He pressed his staff down and readied himself.   
   
 The way they moved, like the swirl of an oil painting—   
   
 Akaashi glanced to his staff. It was made of warped and twisted blackwood, crowned by an amethyst crystal.   
   
 His staff had been his only gift from his mother. Not directly, of course: the staff did not belong to her… But it belonged to her bloodline, and Akaashi inherited it when he proved himself as a full mage. Yes, this staff was a gift from his mother. Not directly, of course, as he had never had the chance to meet her.   
   
 After all, Akaashi had been the one that killed her.   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
  _“Bah!” his father shouted, “You!?” He stood up, face distorted into a scowl. “A failure of a son like you will never be able to be a Clan Leader. You can’t even wield a sword!”  
   
 “I can practice! If you give me time with a blade—”   
   
 “Practice with a blade? As if I care about that!” He used his broken, infected arm to press his fist to Akaashi’s chest. “You disgusting child! You don’t have it. The will. The will of a warrior. You’ll never have it. You’ll never be a warrior.” He let his arm fall and he kept his glare. “You can’t do it, Keiji.”   
   
 “I—”   
   
 “You’re not Tobio.”_   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 The gates shook with such force that it almost threw Akaashi off balance. The assault had begun. Akaashi swung his staff, letting his magic spiral from the base of the warpwood to the jewel that crowned atop—he sent a surge of thunder into the crowd with one firm movement of his arm, gasping for breath after each spell.   
   
 And after each spell, he thanked the forest for all it gave.   
   
 Akaashi also watched the battle from above.   
   
 Kuroo looked tiny from the distance, but the way he swung his two-handed blade was impressive. Such speed, despite the weight of the blade. He also had an aura around him, the way he commanded others, yelled orders, told them to push forward. He had the aura of a leader.   
   
 Akaashi, somewhat out of pettiness, thought Bokuto did it better – but he had no place to judge.   
   
 Daiki from Shinzen and Goura from Ubugawa were on the sides, leading the wings of the ground troops.   
   
 Akaashi shot another spell, but his eyes widened.   
   
 He could see a swirl of black oil sneak through the ranks, going for Kuroo.   
   
 Akaashi wanted to yell, but—   
   
 Kenma danced between the two, slashing the oily assassin with a dagger dipped in the silver oil.   
   
 By the time Akaashi blinked, Kenma was gone. Akaashi couldn’t help but smile, Kuroo didn’t even have a glimmer of an idea that he had almost been assassinated.   
   
 From a distance away, Yaku’s voice rose above the rest: “Keep firing!”   
   
 The archers stiffened and immediately the volley of arrows sped up.   
   
 Akaashi glanced over to Yaku, noticing only now that he wore the stripes of an officer of Nekoma’s military. But what surprised him even more was, “Lev?” Akaashi blurred forward, moving towards Lev who was walking towards Yaku.   
   
 “Lev!?” Yaku fired another shot, barely glancing over his shoulder. “What are you doing here? Get back with the other civilians now!”   
   
 “Wait! But! Yaku!” Lev danced out of giddiness. “I just, I had a theory!”   
   
 “Lev,” Yaku snarled, “Get back down!”   
   
 Akaashi clasped a hand on Lev’s shoulder, startling Lev and Yaku both. “What is your theory?”   
   
 “Well, actually it’s a hypothesis—”   
   
 “Lev.” Yaku stopped firing to turn around. “He needs to get down. Now.”   
   
 “But, Yaku—”   
   
 “Lev,” Akaashi interrupted. “Tell me your hypothesis, quickly and succinct. Then leave immediately, understand?”   
   
 “Y-Yeah!” Lev turned to him. “Look, I know this crazy but… You know about those blue lights?”   
   
 “I do.”   
   
 “There are more lights! Look, I know it’s crazy but look!” Lev pointed at something far and distant. “Every time it moves, the monsters respond. It’s commanding them! I’m sure of it!”   
   
 Akaashi couldn’t see what Lev was pointing at, not at first. Then, his eyes widened. “The red lights?”   
   
 “Yes!”   
   
 “I see.” Akaashi’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll look into it. Thank you. Now leave, Lev.”   
   
 “R-Right! Okay!”   
   
 Yaku watched him go before he turned back to the crowd. “What an idiot.” He pulled an arrow from his quiver, nocking it into the drawstring. “Shibayama!”   
   
 “Ah,” another archer said, “Don’t worry! I took over while you were distracted. We’re using a far and wide formation!”   
   
 “Good!” Yaku pulled back, relaxing only slightly before he fired. “Keep firing!” he yelled at all of them. He glanced over his shoulder. “You too, Mage!”   
   
 Akaashi smacked his staff on the top of the wall, swirling out of existence – and reappearing at his previous spot.   
   
 The archers were a little spooked, but they went back to focusing on their shots.   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes followed the red glimmering lights.   
   
 They seemed to move into the oily beasts, swirling around them, and then those beasts would lurch forward. They moved again to another group, and the same happened. Those lights were red, yes, but he could feel their magic… Corrupt. Madness. Akaashi winced. They were not like—   
   
  _“Mage, can you hear me?”_    
   
 Akaashi’s eyes widened. “Yachi?”   
   
  _“Y-You’ve come to understand, yes? Then I am with you. Yes.”_    
   
 Akaashi nodded before swiping his staff aside. He held a hand up, closing his eyes. His connection to Storm Tree was weak now, as was his connection to the forest. But to Yachi—and, to… something else. Someone else, deep inside… He focused his being into those two drops of light inside him, spinning and whirling.   
   
 The clouds overhead did the same, swirling and whirling.   
   
 Akaashi opened his eyes and pointed his staff towards the sky. At times, his eyes could have been seen as green-grey, or even blue-grey, but now—like a monochrome backlight—his eyes were shining with the colour of storm clouds.   
   
 He understood that there was a risk of setting fire to the forest, that there was a risk of damage irreparable, but something inside him told him it would be okay.   
   
 The storms were with him.   
   
 Akaashi glanced down to locate the glimmering red lights. Finding them, Akaashi brought his staff down—   
   
 And thunder lurched from the heavens.   
   
 A thunderclap echoed as blinding light burst outwards. Akaashi winced, feeling the strength of his own spell knocking him back. Everyone looked away, except Akaashi. Akaashi watched, needed to watch, needed to see those glimmering red lights convulse and die.   
   
 They shattered.   
   
 There was a sound, like a bird screaming, as if its wings had been torn off.   
   
 Akaashi’s mind felt numb.   
   
 The light faded, as did the sound, the force, and the thunder.   
   
 While everyone else recovered, Akaashi took a step back, mind foggy.   
   
 He closed his eyes.   
   
 He felt himself drifting, falling—   
   
 “Mage!” Yaku screamed, hand reaching for him.   
   
 Akaashi barely registered the fact he was falling, falling off the wall.   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 Akaashi opened his eyes, instantly regretting it. The warm orange firelight was too bright. He felt a cool cloth over his head, and he surmised he was in a tent. Unsurprising. Storm Tree had many tents for rest and recovery, but whoever brought him here had let him rest on Bokuto’s bed. He knew this bedroll, this scent, the hides they used, the wool for blankets.   
   
 Bokuto.   
   
 Akaashi remembered the countless nights he’d slept here, listening to Bokuto’s breathing as he drifted off to sleep.   
   
 But, no—   
   
 It was not the time to rest, to sleep.   
   
 Akaashi forced himself up, grunting.   
   
 “Ah,” Konoha’s voice rose slightly. “He’s awake. Get Kuroo and his kitten, ne?”   
   
 “Ah,” Sarukui replied. “Why me?”   
   
 “Just do it.”   
   
 Akaashi ignored their banter, but when he heard a flap of the tent’s entrance he assumed Sarukui was going to get Kuroo, and that Konoha would come bother him. Akaashi spoke before Konoha could, “My staff?”   
   
 “Ah, it’s there.” Konoha pointed at it.   
   
 Akaashi glanced behind him, seeing it resting by the bedside. He was about to reach for it when—   
   
 “What do you remember?”   
   
 “Remember?” Akaashi blinked. “I was… atop the gate. I located what we could assume was an enemy commander, and…” He glanced to Konoha. “The battle?”   
   
 “We won,” came Kuroo’s voice from the tent’s entrance as he stepped inside. “Thanks to you.”   
   
 “I fell.” Akaashi grabbed his staff. “From the wall.”   
   
 “Kitten got you,” Kuroo said as he pointed to his side with his thumb.   
   
 Kenma gave a small nod.   
   
 “Ah.” Akaashi forced himself up, despite Konoha’s stammering. “Thank you.”   
   
 Kuroo began with a, “More like—”   
   
 “No,” Kenma said sharply. “We should thank you. Your spell turned the tide of the battle.”   
   
 “Glad to hear it.” Akaashi winced. He located his boots and slipped them on.   
   
 “Hey, stop.” Konoha frowned. “Easy. You need rest.”   
   
 “My apologies, Konoha.” Akaashi didn’t look at him. “But I do not have time to rest. I am sufficient enough to continue.”   
   
 “Uh.” Kuroo blinked. “Continue?”   
   
 “Bokuto is out there.” Akaashi gathered the rest of his things. “It is crucial that we rescue him immediately. If you would like to support me in this, you are more than welcome to join.”   
   
 “Don’t take this the wrong way, ‘Kaashi, but I don’t think we can do that right now. We’ve got too many wounded, too many defences to fix up.”   
   
 “Very well.” Akaashi nodded. “Then I will go alone.” He moved to walk past them, but—   
   
 Kenma grabbed his arm.   
   
 Akaashi looked him in the eyes.   
   
 Kenma was silent.   
   
 Akaashi did not fight it. He was not sure why. He could logically assume it was because Kenma had saved his life, but he didn’t think that was it entirely. Akaashi stayed still.   
   
 Kuroo was looking at Kenma expectantly.   
   
 Konoha was just confused.   
   
 Kenma, slowly, let go.   
   
 “What?” Kuroo asked, “Not going to stop him?”   
   
 “It’s for the best if he goes,” Kenma replied.   
   
  _He just wants me gone, as a mage—_    
   
 “Akaashi,” Kenma looked at him directly. “A lot of our defenses are destroyed. Another strike, we’re gone… They will attack again. Soon. Our time is running out.”   
   
 Akaashi bit the inside of his cheek.   
   
 “I lost someone, once… a friend. My closest friend.” Kenma’s eye contact was fierce, and Akaashi dared not interrupt. “Shouyou was… He was all I had, at the time. To this day, I wish I did more… I don’t know how, but if I could go back… If I could’ve done more, I would’ve… But I didn’t.”   
   
 Akaashi said nothing.   
   
 Kuroo, too, was silent.   
   
 “I believe you,” Kenma explained, “When you say you’re trying to save us all, by finding Bokuto, I believe you. But we won’t survive another assault without you.”   
   
 Akaashi shook himself away. “I am just a mage, Nekoma.”   
   
 “Just a mage,” Kuroo repeated, putting a hand over his face. “Just a fucking mage! Great.” He moved his hand away. “Bokuto always described you as this smart, incredible, brilliant guy – but you’re an idiot, Akaashi.”   
   
 Kenma sharply hissed,  _“Kuro.”_    
   
 And Kuroo’s mouth shut.   
   
 “Forgive him, the stress of leadership…” Kenma glanced away, looking around as he tried to gather words. “What I’m… trying to say is…”   
   
  _In fighting will be the end of us,_  Akaashi knew. “I understand what you’re trying to say; however, I disagree. I merely got lucky. The one you should be thanking is Lev.”   
   
 Kuroo and Kenma both sputtered, “Lev?!”   
   
 Akaashi forced back the amused smile. “He was the one that found the enemy commander. He’s the one you should thank.” He moved to the opening of the tent. “I only struck him out. An archer’s volley could have done the same.”   
   
 Kuroo spun to face him. “Akaashi!”   
   
 “I am leaving.” Akaashi opened the exit of the tent. “I’ve wasted enough time.”   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 Akaashi walked off without much thought. A part of him wanted to assess the damages, but he refused. He knew he could heal some people to better health, but there were medics and other mages. Other people were tending to those tasks, and nobody was searching for Bokuto. Akaashi walked past the gate, feeling a sense of dread.   
   
 It was badly damaged, busted open, spikes impaling the ground below.   
   
 A part of him wanted to say goodbye to some people, to Kenma, to Lev, for some reason.   
   
 Akaashi could logically understand that there was a gap in his life, a hole. Without Bokuto, Akaashi was longing to fill that sense of emptiness with other people. He found it amusing, only because – if it hadn’t been for Bokuto – there would have been no hole to fill. But he would find Bokuto, and he didn’t need others.   
   
 He didn’t need anyone else.   
   
 Akaashi walked off into the forest, robes and cape fluttering.   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 Akaashi let his feet guide him as he wandered, closing his mind, and opening himself to the forest. Though the connection was weaker, he knew he could still believe in it. Trust in it. He could feel Yachi and the other light guiding him along.   
   
 Akaashi opened his eyes.   
   
 Nothing.   
   
 The forest was endless around him, but he didn’t find anything worth noticing.   
   
 But that too was important, as it said the beasts weren’t around. Akaashi wondered what he should do for a moment, tilting his head. He reached into his robe and pulled out a bowl. He held it up to the sky and closed his eyes. “Waters, that which take our dead, I ask for a moment of insight.”   
   
 He kept his eyes closed, but he could feel the bowl getting heavier.   
   
 He could feel the trees weaving, creating strings of magic that transferred water from their tips into the bowl.   
   
 Akaashi opened his eyes, lowering the bowl down to see it.   
   
 It was full.   
   
 Akaashi went to drink, when a leaf fluttered down, landing exactly at the centre of it. He stared for a moment, wondering what exactly he could do about this, but then decided to do nothing.   
   
 Despite the leaf, he drank the waters.   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 And his eyes opened.   
   
 Feeling a surge of power, Akaashi knew this was not reality; or, rather, not entirely reality. He moved his hand, watching the afterimages that blurred from the movement. Akaashi put the bowl back in his robe and moved through the forest. His vision came in blurry staccatos. The trees were ghost-white, the darkness was endless around him, as if light did not exist. Was this real, or just a vision?   
   
  _“Ah,”_  came a voice inside his mind,  _“You wonder, and you think dynamically.”_    
   
 Akaashi paused. He glanced to the side.   
   
 Blue lights gathered as one.   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes widened. “Yachi?” He asked, even though he knew.   
   
 “No,” came the light’s voice, “I am not her, though she does send her regards. She is doing much better since you’ve seen her.”   
   
 “Since I’ve seen her?”   
   
 The light nodded, and stepped forward.   
   
 Akaashi couldn’t help but take a step back. “And you are?”   
   
 “Tsukishima.”   
   
 Akaashi eyed him carefully.   
   
 “I am one of the spirits of the forest.”   
   
 “Spirits of the forest,” Akaashi repeated. “You are not simply a forest spirit, a spirit that resides in the forest… You are a spirit  _of_  the forest. You, are the forest.”   
   
 “Your Tribe is the most spiritual of the Clan.” He raised a hand, pointing to the feathers and skulls on Akaashi’s shoulder pads. “You should know more than any other exactly what I am.”   
   
 “The souls of our dead leave our bodies, and join the forest via the river of the dead.” Akaashi rubbed his thumb against the wood of his staff. “These trees are nurtured by the spirits of our ancestors; and, thus, the forest has always been our protection in return, our home.”   
   
 Tsukishima nodded.   
   
 “So then… you and Yachi.” Akaashi’s eyes widened. “You are both dead?”   
   
 “Yes.” Tsukishima let that sink in. “We were both fortunate enough to live full, happy lives. The two of us existed before you were even born. The forest chose us to be its guardians – we are the ones who lead the dead.”   
   
 Akaashi moved his arm again, studying the afterimages. “And this place, is this… is this the afterlife?”   
   
 Could it be—   
   
 Could he…?   
   
 Could his mother be here?   
   
 His little brother—   
   
 “Yachi is our true leader,” Tsukishima explained. “She is the Will. The will to live, to do what’s right. I, on the other hand, am the mind of the forest.”   
   
 “The mind?”   
   
 “Life is a creative force. Whether it’s how a prey hides from a predator, or how a bird cracks open a seed, all living beings hone their sense of intellect as they grow.” Tsukishima scowled. “The madness that is overtaking the afterlife; and, thus, warping the forest, is also an intellectual and creative force.”   
   
 “Madness that is…” Akaashi frowned. “I am sorry. A madness is taking over the afterlife?”   
   
 “I do not have all the answers, lest I would give them to you.” He held up a bead of light. “But I will add my powers to yours.” He launched it forward, satisfied when Akaashi caught it. “I am with you now. Good luck to us both, then, Keiji Akaashi.”   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 Akaashi knew he didn’t have time to think, to stop, to rest, but he found himself sitting on a rock a ways away. He opened his hands, and three beads of light danced around him. They were dead. Yachi, Tsukishima, and this other one. The mind of the forest, the will to live…   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes widened.   
   
 Glimmering right in front of him…   
   
 “A fourth?” Akaashi got up, but—“No!”   
   
 The bead of light shot forward.   
   
 Akaashi pulled his own lights back into his sleeve and gave chase.   
   
 Once again he was whirling through the forest, wild and uncontained this time. He felt as though he was letting go in a way he hadn’t ever been allowed to. He was chasing, and the light was playing with him. Akaashi’s eyes were wide with wonder, smile pulled into a grin. This was… fun?   
   
 The light was playing with him.   
   
 “Got you!” Akaashi said, victoriously—only then realising he must have looked like one of the little boys who played tag around the villages.   
   
 Light dispersed at once, quickly becoming something else.   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes widened; it was as if he had been struck by a gust of wind.   
   
 Stars and constellations danced around him, swirling in a storm of light.   
   
 “I was hoping you’d find me sooner than later, Akaashi.”   
   
 Akaashi spun around.   
   
 A boy stood – no. Not a boy. A man, but his posture was smaller, not a warrior by any means. His body was made of lights, his cheeks dusted with starlight freckles.   
   
 “You…” Akaashi’s eyes widened. “You’re the one I scried, the first time, when I found Yachi.”   
   
 The boy nodded.   
   
 “You’re…” Akaashi bit his lip. “You’re dead. One of the spirits chosen as a gatekeeper, of sorts.”   
   
 “Yep… The forest can only talk to the forest, and the dead can only talk to the dead… So, you see, the five of us were chosen. We would be half spirit, half forest.” The lights glimmered around him. “Some people say it’s a sacrifice, but I… I love it. It’s wonderful, watching our little homes grow and thrive, change over time.”   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes widened as he imagined it.   
   
 “We…” The boy seemed embarrassed for a moment. “We wanted you to become Clan Leader, actually.”   
   
 Akaashi tensed. He shook his head firmly. “You are mistaken, I am a mage, I am no—”   
   
 “Life…” The boy looked away for a moment. “Life is varied, you know?” His eyes looked up to meet Akaashi’s. “When people think of the forest, they think of trees. The life in the forest is not just trees, though. There are grasses and mosses, ferns and flowers—and animals! All the birds and beasts, little insects and spiders. There are even microscopic lifeforms that break down wood and give nutrients back to the soil.”   
   
 Akaashi frowned. “Truly?”   
   
 “Everything is a cycle, but the cycle could not exist without the forest having all the little pieces. Everything in the forest is living. The ecosystem is built on that variety.”   
   
 “Life.” Akaashi realised, “You are the life of the forest, the variety of life within the forest.”   
   
 “Yes.” The boy smiled peacefully. “I nurture this variety, and I nurture the variety of them all.”   
   
 “Spirit of the Forest.” Akaashi got down on one knee. “May you tell me your name?”   
   
 “Ah! I forgot! Haha, sorry! I’m Yamaguchi.” He beamed happily, rubbing the back of his head. “And I am Life.”   
   
 “Yamaguchi,” Akaashi repeated as he stood up. “Please, tell me all you can about the madness that invades our forest. I must know more.”   
   
 “Ah… I’m not sure how much Yachi or Tsukki told you, but…” Yamaguchi bit his lip for a moment. “We were separated when we were struck. Like a floodgate bursting open, the red madness poured from the afterlife into the forest. From what I understand, Yachi was the first to get corrupted. Tsukki managed to stay safe, but I… it got parts of me. See?”   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes widened.   
   
 Yamaguchi lifted his arm, revealing blotches of red and black. “The oily shadows that move through the forest, they are mine, Akaashi… My children, my life, lost to madness.” He glanced at the wound. “You see, it is not impossible for the dead to speak to the living, but life and death should never coexist within the same being.”   
   
 Akaashi thought of that being, their nemesis, that had struck his father down… “Spirit. How may I purify you?”   
   
 “You already are.” Yamaguchi held up his arm, watching the black bits break off and break away.   
   
 “How…?”   
   
 “Life is a great collective force, but our strength comes from the connections we make – it is how we grow strong, and righted.” Yamaguchi tilted his head. “You know this, don’t you?”   
   
 “I…” Akaashi looked down. “I do… I have lost my way before, but…”   
   
 “But Bokuto was there.”   
   
 Akaashi steeled himself against the shaking in his chest. “Where is he?”   
   
 “I do not know, Akaashi.”   
   
 He sighed.   
   
 “But.”   
   
 Akaashi looked up.   
   
 “I know who will know.”   
   
 “Another spirit?”   
   
 “Yes,” Yamaguchi said cautiously. “He is where the shadow is thickest, however… There are five spirits, and you have only met three of us now. There is one more you should see before going into the thickest shadow.”   
   
 “Fine, I shall do that first then…” Akaashi opened his palm, three dancing lights hovering above his palm. “But, Spirit, I am running out of time. If you are purified, Yamaguchi, does that mean these beasts are gone?”   
   
 “Yes and no.” Yamaguchi frowned. “No new ones can be created, and many have shaken off the corruption already… but there are some of my children who have steeped too much into the madness, they are already lost… They must be destroyed.”   
   
 Akaashi glanced away. “I see. I am… sorry, then.”   
   
 Yamaguchi shook his head. “Go, Akaashi.” He created his own bead of light and let it join the others. “Go, now.”   
   
 “Where?”   
   
 Yamaguchi just smiled, before he dispersed.   
   
 The whirling lights went with him.   
   
 And Akaashi found himself in the darkness again.   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 Again, Akaashi let himself follow his feet. He found himself in the one place he never wanted to be. The forest dipped down into a wide river. It was this river where they put the dead in the water, let them drift off, let them join the forest…   
   
 He had been here many times over the years, but his mind always drifted back to when—   
   
 Footsteps.   
   
 Akaashi tensed. He somehow knew this presence. He was afraid to turn around, clutching his staff, feeling his shoulders tense. He turned. His eyes widened, knees shaking. “Kageyama…”   
   
 Kageyama’s form was blue glimmering lights as he whispered, “Brother.”   
   
 Akaashi’s vision blurred.   
   
 His brother.   
   
 Half-brother, died as a child, never grew up, never got to see the world, never—   
   
 But Kageyama stood before him, the age he would have been if he was alive. Only two years younger than Akaashi, Kageyama’s form blurred baby blue. His eyes were also a brilliant blue, but that was not because of the lights—no, Akaashi remembered even back then they reminded him of water.   
   
 Akaashi shook his head, shaking. “Kageyama…”   
   
 “Keiji.”   
   
 Akaashi fell to his knees, dropping his staff. “Tobio…”   
   
 “I wanted… to stay. To stay in the world of the living… wanted to see you grow up, to see who would take care of our clan…” Kageyama stepped to the side, slightly, watching as Akaashi held back broken sobs. Kageyama’s eyes softened. “So I became the spirits of the river.”   
   
 Akaashi looked up.   
   
 “Water is the source of all life. We are all born in the water of the womb, and we drift off in the waters of the forest. Water is what nurtures all life, what cleans, what strengthens.”   
   
 “Tobio… I, I…”   
   
 “You bear so much on your shoulders, Keiji.” Kageyama smiled. “I am… touched, by how often you think of me.”   
   
 “I!” Akaashi got up. “What father said—”   
   
 “I know.” Kageyama glanced at him. “He lied to me, endlessly, to make me hate you. He tried to make everyone hate you, because you were a failure to him. You were a mage, when you should have been a warrior. Your frame was weak, when it should have been strong. You were everything he hated, and I was everything he loved… But I wasn’t his, official, child. I couldn’t take his throne.”   
   
 Akaashi merely whispered a wet, “Kageyama,” unable to say any more.   
   
 “I know it was all lies.” Kageyama turned to him. “I knew it back then, too. Everyone did.”   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes widened. “I just… I didn’t want you to hate me, I…”   
   
 “I never did.”   
   
 Akaashi felt it, a surge of water pouring over him. Water was what nurtured all life, what cleaned, what strengthened. Akaashi let out a broken sob, feeling as though he was drowning in the release. He forced himself to breathe. He wiped away his tears. “Kageyama… Tobio, will you… will you give me your bead of light, and be with me?”   
   
 Kageyama smiled and pointed upwards.   
   
 Akaashi looked up, seeing four beads of light circling overhead.   
   
 Yachi, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, and—   
   
 “You’ve…” Akaashi looked at him.   
   
 Kageyama whispered, “Always.”   
   
 Akaashi felt his shoulders slack, and he feared his knees would give out.   
   
 “That’s what kept me safe,” Kageyama explained. “That’s what kept me away from the madness, even when it fractured the unity of the five of us. I held on to you, I was with you, I have always been with you, Keiji.”   
   
 “The water…” Akaashi thought about the bowl, the spells. “The scrying…”   
   
 “I don’t interfere, usually.” Kageyama dipped his head. “You’ve always been capable, and the forest chose you as its child before I was even born. You’re capable from your own power, Keiji… but I guided you from time to time, showed you what I could. I led you to Yachi.”   
   
 “Why?”   
   
 “Well.” Kageyama frowned. “I showed you Yamaguchi, but you found Yachi instead…”   
   
 “No, I mean.” Akaashi unintentionally mirrored his frown. “Why did you help me, guide me? Why would you spend any time, on me? Over the years, I…”   
   
 “Because I hated father,” Kageyama explained simply, “I hated how he treated you, hated that he branded you, hated how he treated us… how he separated us. I was, alone. I wanted… I.” Kageyama frowned, looking at his hands. “I wanted to be your friend.”   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes widened.   
   
 “I was so…” Kageyama avoided eye contact. “I was lonely… and every time I saw you, I knew we were the same. I knew you were hurting, I wanted… I wanted what I couldn’t have. What we couldn’t have. So I wanted to watch over you, wanted to know that you could break out of that, make a life for yourself. I wanted—” Kageyama’s eyes softened. “I wanted you to become Clan Leader.”   
   
 Akaashi looked away.   
   
 “You gave that up… and, maybe that’s okay.”   
   
 “Is it?”   
   
 “Mm.” Kageyama seemed unsure as he made eye contact. “Bokuto… I like him. He’s, good for you.”   
   
 Akaashi swallowed hard.   
   
 “He’s a good Clan Leader as well.”   
   
 “Tobio.” Akaashi said as he stepped forward. “He’s in danger.”   
   
 “Yes.” Kageyama nodded. “Let’s go.”   
   
 “Let’s go…? We?” Akaashi’s eyes widened. “Together?”   
   
 “Unlike the rest, I can’t be corrupted. I’m too close to you.” Kageyama stepped forward. “After all, it’s water’s job to clean… I’ll guide you to our last.”


	3. Chapter 3

 Akaashi has one memory, of when he was five. Practicing in Skyglade, where the forest’s canopy faded from view and he could see the sky in all its wide glory. He felt so small. The canopy had always been above them, like a warm blanket. Now he felt naked and thrust into the greatness of the sky. Now, he finally felt a part of something much, much, much bigger.   
   
 “Keiji! Focus.”   
   
 Akaashi’s cheeks flushed a bit and he looked down, tapping his feet on the ground beneath him. “Yes, Father.”   
   
 An onlooker watched on.   
   
 Akaashi grabbed his sword and smiled.   
   
 His father smiled in return. There was nothing but love in those eyes. Nothing but nurturing love, care. His father did not mind that Akaashi had killed his own mother in childbirth. His father did not blame him for taking her life as a sacrifice for his own. No, he cited that in life we must all give, that it was his mother’s time.   
   
 Akaashi still remembers the first time he really understood that it was him who had killed her. He had been told of course, that she had died in childbirth, that there were complications, that it could have happened to anyone. It was not until he was five he began to understand… all the other children had mothers. Why not him?   
   
 He had thought maybe it was due to his father being Clan Leader.   
   
 Akaashi was a sacred name.   
   
 Akaashi was a name of power.   
   
 Being born Akaashi was powerful.   
   
 The only power Akaashi knew was that he had killed his mother.   
   
 “Keiji,” his father’s voice came again. “What’s wrong? You don’t want to practice today?”   
   
 “No, Father.” Akaashi looked up. “I mean—” He glanced away. “I mean, yes Father. I want to practice.”   
   
 “Then come on.” He took his stance. “Hit me with your best strike.”   
   
 An onlooker watched on.   
   
 Akaashi picked up the sword. Akaashi meant power. He held his weapon. His name meant power. He took his stance, a warrior’s stance. He dove forward and slashed.   
   
 His father laughed—   
   
 Akaashi did not know when he was flipped, but he was staring at the sky again. The haunting, everlasting, ever-expanding sky.   
   
 “Keiji,” he heard his father say in a laugh. “You’re awful with a blade.”   
   
 Akaashi sat up, scurrying to his feet. “No!” He shook his head. “I’ll get better!”   
   
 “Of course.” His father nodded firmly. “I was even worse than you when I started the blade.” He twirled his sword in his hand. “If you would rather work with maces or hammers, we can get that going too. Axes, maybe?”   
   
 “Blade,” Akaashi said.   
   
 He remembered, once, he had asked Father if he could learn bow and arrow. He had gotten a  _Bah! Never!_  in response. Apparently archery was not the warrior’s way, though it was useful. Akaashi did not think much of it. He had quickly shifted his stance, saying he wanted to learn it as well as the blade, so he could take down foes at range too. His father had been proud of him then. His father—   
   
 “Keiji! Focus.”   
   
 Akaashi grabbed his blade and dove in.   
   
 His father dropped to a stance.   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes widened. He felt—   
   
 Ah.   
   
 The sky.   
   
 He felt, free.   
   
 One strike—   
   
 It was like he could move a mountain, shake the earth, tear the sky in one single—   
   
 “Ah!” His father was pushed back, a plasma-like substance dancing around his arm as he jumped back. “Keiji!”   
   
 Akaashi took a step back, eyes wide.   
   
 His father quickly understood it had not been on purpose, had been an accident, that Akaashi himself was confused at what exactly that had been.   
   
 The onlooker wore a black robe and hood. His shoulder pads were crested with yellow feathers. He walked closer to the father and son. The father noticed him, tensing and glaring. The onlooker slowed his steps and finally spoke: “This one.” He motioned to Akaashi. “Is a mage.”   
   
 Akaashi blinked once, twice.   
   
 His father’s eyes turned to Akaashi, filled with something Akaashi didn’t understand.   
   
 “This,” the onlooker said as he offered something small, “Is a staff. It should be good for one your age. You will use this, not a blade.”   
   
 A staff?   
   
 Akaashi could feel something in that warped wood… something powerful.   
   
 The onlooker kept it held out.   
   
 Akaashi let the sword drop from his hand as he reached for the staff.   
   
 “Brand him.” Father yelled, “Brand him!”   
   
 The onlooker tensed and turned. “He is your son…”   
   
 “And you,” his father yelled as he pointed his finger at the man. “Must follow my commands. I am Clan Leader. Brand the child!”   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 At seven, Akaashi still went to Skyglade often on his days off. What he saw there, now, was not as surprising as he felt it should have been. He stayed hidden, behind some bushes, watching. His staff was at his side, and he wore worn-out black robes as the others did.   
   
 “Tobio! Focus.”   
   
 Kageyama’s cheeks flushed a bit and he looked down, tapping his feet on the ground beneath him. “Yes, Clan Leader.”   
   
 Akaashi watched on.   
   
 Kageyama grabbed his sword and smiled.   
   
 Father smiled in return. There was nothing but love in those eyes. Nothing but nurturing love, care.   
   
 Kageyama was only two years younger than Akaashi. Akaashi had often watched him from afar. Kageyama was an illegitimate child. It was what no one talked about. But Akaashi watched.   
   
 “Ha!” His father’s stance was thrown off by a strike. “Very good, Tobio! Perfect! Flawless!”   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes fell to the grass beneath his feet. He took a soft breath, closing his eyes. His hand curled around his staff, knuckles going white and stiff. Quiet. He needed to stay quiet. He needed to stay absolutely—   
   
 “Hi!” came a booming voice next to him, “I’m Bokuto and—”   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes snapped open and he spun. He put a hand over the other boy’s mouth and—losing his footing—the two of them slipped, yelping.   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 The problem with Skyglade was that not only did trees not grow around the mound, but it was also quite a hill. That led to the two boys rolling down the hill together, snapping on twigs, hitting rocks, spinning in confusion, until they came to a halt.   
   
 Bokuto jumped up. “Wow that was fun!”   
   
 Akaashi’s head snapped towards him, glaring. His first thought, however, was his staff. He looked around for it and luckily found it undamaged.   
   
 “Is that a stick!?”   
   
 “It’s.” Akaashi kept his anger in but slammed the base of the staff on the earth, wanting roots to burst out around him, though nothing happened. “It’s a staff. I am a mage. And you almost got me caught.”   
   
 “Oh.” Bokuto blinked. “Caught?”   
   
 “I was…” Akaashi cheeks flushed. “I was watching something I shouldn’t.”   
   
 “You mean your dad sparring with Kageyama?”   
   
 Akaashi looked away.   
   
 “Huh.” Bokuto scratched the back of his head. He hummed thoughtfully. “Wow! That’s really cool you’re a mage, though. Can you do magic? Can you show me something?”   
   
 Akaashi tensed a little but let go of his staff. It stayed still, perfectly upright. He put his hands together in a dome and two zaps of electricity danced left and right between his hands.   
   
 Bokuto’s jaw dropped.   
   
 Akaashi stammered, “St-Stop that.”   
   
 “Show me more! Show me more!”   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 At nine, it all changed. The whole Tribe went to the sacred river of the dead. It wasn’t official, but everyone knew of course. Father had spent so much time training little Tobio that what was once rumour was fact. Tobio Kageyama was the child of the Clan Leader. Only those in Fukurodani knew of it. The whole Tribe had come out of respect for the Clan Leader.   
   
 Akaashi, after all, was a name that meant power.   
   
 Power demanded respect.   
   
 They all came to pay respect.   
   
 A special boat was made for a child his size; that thought haunted Akaashi as he watched the boat drift off, taking Tobio Kageyama into the water.   
   
 His father had never been the same.   
   
 No, how could he be? Akaashi had taken his father’s wife, and the only child worth being proud of was stripped from him.   
   
 Akaashi cried.   
   
 He had found himself crying more than he expected to. But there was much to grieve, and the warm tears spilling down his face could never stop.   
   
 “Enough!” His father’s hand struck hard against his face. “You didn’t even know him!”   
   
  _That,_  Akaashi thought to himself, ignoring the sting of the strike on his cheek,  _Is maybe why I grieve…_    
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 “Mage!” came the voice of a shrieking woman, “Fix this!”   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes widened. A child, a broken child was handed to him. His fingers curled around the staff in his hand. He was ten only, but he knew his limits well. His eyes glanced up to hers. “His bones are broken, but he can recover.”   
   
 “Then do it!”   
   
 “I am not a medic,” Akaashi said quietly. “I do not know first aid, I can only—”   
   
 “Fix it!”   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes narrowed. “You need to set the bone first! I don’t know how—”   
   
 “Use your magic!”   
   
 “I can’t—”   
   
 “Mage!” she yelled, “Fix it! Fix—”   
   
 A hand clasped on her shoulder.   
   
 Akaashi blinked. “Bokuto?”   
   
 Bokuto’s eyes had that haunting intensity. He smiled, but Akaashi could see the storm rolling underneath. “The doctors have their own tent, you know?” His voice was calm, eyes a little too wide, as if he didn’t want the woman to look away from him for even a moment. “You should take your kid to a doctor.”   
   
 She stiffened and carefully pulled her child along, cursing under her breath.   
   
 Bokuto watched her go for a moment before he glanced to his side. “Akaashi—” He blinked and looked around. “Akaashi? Mm.” He snickered and began walking. “Ah, Akaaaaaashi.” He smiled, a little skip in his step.   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 Akaashi was hiding in the forest, a new groove he had found after Father ordered him to stop spending so much time around Skyglade. He rested in a hollowed out tree, closing his eyes, thinking of nothing. He heard footsteps approach and tensed, but the soil told him what he needed to know. He clutched his staff, wishing there was a spell to turn invisible.   
   
 Bokuto crouched down. “Hi.”   
   
 Akaashi did not face him.   
   
 “Akaashi…” Bokuto gave a smile. “I’m sorry. I know this is like, your, uh! Secret hideout! But, uhh…” He tilted his head a bit. “But I came after you.”   
   
 “I know.” Akaashi looked up, meeting those intense eyes for a moment, no longer frightened by all the wonder he saw in them. Like the sky, horrific, wide, never-ending, beautiful. “The wind and earth told me so.”   
   
 Bokuto blinked. “Ah! Really? That’s cool! What else can it do?”   
   
 Akaashi reached in his pouch, pulling out a small bowl. He looked up to the hollowed out tree above him. “A droplet, for his wonder?”   
   
 The tree churned, and the forest shivered from a breeze. A small, steady stream poured into the bowl, just enough to create a surface.   
   
 Bokuto blinked. “Wow!”   
   
 “N-No.” Akaashi gave an awkward smile as he stood up. “That wasn’t the magic part.”   
   
 “It wasn’t!?”   
   
 “No, Bokuto.” Akaashi’s smile grew. “Watch.” He looked at the water. “To the waters that take our dead, show us something that begets life.”   
   
 Bokuto’s eyes widened. “That’s!”   
   
 “Mmm.” Akaashi couldn’t help but laugh.   
   
 At the doctor’s tent, an older mage was scolding the woman as the doctors were helping the child with care.   
   
 The image faded.   
   
 Bokuto looked up. “That was. That was real?”   
   
 “Yes.” Akaashi nodded. “I cannot scry the past or the future. It happened just the very moment we saw it.”   
   
 “Wow! What else can you do!?”   
   
 “Ah.” Akaashi looked away. “I should not. I cannot take or give… I can only ask the forest. But I do not want to ask too much.”   
   
 “Wow!” Bokuto’s eyes were wide and he was practically vibrating.   
   
 Akaashi blushed a bit at the attention, looking away. “What is it, Bokuto?”   
   
 “Well!” Bokuto grinned. “When you move like that… it’s like you’re wind. It’s like you fly, Akaashi.”   
   
 “I cannot fly, Bokuto. I am human.”   
   
 “But! Blah! It’s the same thing with your thunder!”   
   
 “Magic is different,” Akaashi murmured quietly.   
   
 “But, like.” Bokuto breathed heavily through his nose. “When you’re focused, Akaashi… it’s like your feet barely touch the ground. You’re magical, Akaashi. Everything about you is magical. You can fly.”   
   
 Akaashi felt his heart stammer and he looked away, suddenly finding those eyes scary again, but in the warmest way.   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
 When Akaashi was thirteen, his eyes widened with complete horror.   
   
 “It’s a disease…” Father explained, “It’s not contagious, but it will kill me.” The scaly yellow lines raced up is sword arm. “As Clan Leader… it was my duty to remove the beast that was feasting on Storm Tree, and so it is my duty to die. For Storm Tree. A good way to go.”   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes watered. “Father, I…”   
   
 “Still you weep for me, huh?” Father laughed. “Don’t worry… I still have a few years left. The doctors and the magi will find a way to slow it down. But… it’s the same as before, you don’t cry for others Keiji… You’re selfish. You cry for yourself, for what you will lose, for what you lost.”   
   
 Akaashi steeled himself, inhaling sharply.   
   
 “I lost everything, Keiji.” He held his son’s gaze firmly. “Did I ever tell you why your mother named you Keiji? It means to govern, or to cure, a city. And you were just a disease, a parasite… you took her with you. And now the Clan will be yours, a  _mage_.”   
   
 “Father, I.” Akaashi held his staff firmly at his side. “I will make you proud, as Clan Leader.”   
   
 “Bah!” his father shouted, “You!?” He stood up, face distorted into a scowl. “A failure of a son like you will never be able to be a Clan Leader. You can’t even wield a sword!”   
   
 “I can practice! If you give me time with a blade—”   
   
 “Practice with a blade? As if I care about that!” He used his broken, infected arm to press his fist to Akaashi’s chest. “You disgusting child! You don’t have it. The will. The will of a warrior. You’ll never have it. You’ll never be a warrior.” He let his arm fall and he kept his glare. “You can’t do it, Keiji.”   
   
 “I—”   
   
 “You’re not Tobio.”   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes widened, and it felt like the ground broke beneath him. He heard howling, screaming winds, and wished they would drown him right there and then.   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 Akaashi had asked the forest to take him, to let the earth rise up and cover him in soil. He would not die in the river like the others, but he would go in the dry earth – where his soul would never go to the afterlife.   
   
 The forest denied.   
   
 It was the only time Akaashi hated the forest.   
   
 The forest still welcomed him, moved stones and vines in his path.   
   
 Akaashi found himself at the base of a hill, and memories surfaced of rolling down these hills five years ago with Bokuto.   
   
 Footsteps behind him.   
   
 Akaashi glanced over his shoulder, eyes wide.   
   
 Bokuto.   
   
 Akaashi turned around, taking a step back.   
   
 “Akaashi?” Bokuto blinked twice. “What’s wrong? Wind and earth didn’t tell you I was coming?”   
   
 “I…” Akaashi’s eyes widened. “No.” He clutched his staff. “It told me nothing. It…” He looked down. The forest had welcomed him, moved stones and vines in his path. No. “It led me here,” he realised. He looked up at Bokuto. “The forest led me here, and didn’t tell me why.”   
   
 “It led me here too!” Bokuto threw his arms in the air. “I heard it, Akaashi! I heard it!” He grinned wide. “The way the soil moves, forming around your feet, the way the wind whispers in your ear. It lights a fire in you! You never told me that! You never told me how alive it makes everything feel!”   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes watered.   
   
 “Akaashi?” Bokuto stepped closer. He didn’t hesitate to cup Akaashi’s face, brushing one tear away with a thumb. “What’s wrong, Akaaaashi?”   
   
 “It led you here to me,” Akaashi whispered. He moved forward, pressing his face into Bokuto’s chest, dropping his staff, letting his arms wrap around Bokuto.   
   
 Bokuto meeped.   
   
 Akaashi took in a deep breath of Bokuto’s scent, knowing it was safe and home. It was everything Akaashi needed, and the forest knew. The forest provided. “Bokuto,” he said as he pulled away. “It brought you here so you’d come with me.”   
   
 Bokuto blinked rapidly. “What?”   
   
 “A clan of warriors has no need for a mage,” Akaashi explained. “I will leave. I was to venture out, on my own, find my own way. Come with me, Bokuto.” He held out his hands. “Come with me and—”   
   
 “No.”   
   
 Akaashi looked down.   
   
 “Stay.”   
   
 Akaashi looked up.   
   
 “Akaashi,” Bokuto whispered. “What happened?”   
   
 So Akaashi told him.   
   
 Bokuto’s eyes were wide.   
   
 “I should leave the forest,” Akaashi murmured quietly. “I should leave the clan, the tribe… A clan of warriors has no need for a mage, they—”   
   
 Bokuto clasped his hand.   
   
 Akaashi glanced to their hands, then up to Bokuto.   
   
 “But that’s exactly why we need you, Akaaaaashi!” Bokuto’s face was serious. His eyes, golden, were haunting. “Stay.”   
   
 Akaashi felt his heart stop. He glanced away, not enjoying the power Bokuto had over him. “Why?”   
   
 “Because… I would be sad without you, ‘Kaashi. You see the best in me. You see the best in me so everyone else does too!”   
   
 Akaashi squished his eyes shut. “Bokuto.”   
   
 “Stay.”   
   
 “I’m branded!” Akaashi yelled, roared. Bokuto notably flinched, but didn’t let go of his hand. Akaashi squeezed it. “I’m branded…”   
   
 “So?” Bokuto smiled wide. “It’s just a tattoo.”   
   
 “It’s a mark! Of magic! A curse!”   
   
 “Who cares?” Bokuto brought Akaashi’s hand up to his lips and kissed it. “Stay.”   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 At fourteen, Akaashi found himself sneaking out of his daily training, his mage practice. He knew Bokuto was skipping out of his warrior training, and that made it all the more exciting. The forest would whisper to them both and somehow they never got caught. The forest was with them, Akaashi thought, but he warned Bokuto never to let it get to his head.   
   
 “We must thank the forest,” Akaashi explained, “Each and every time.”   
   
 “That’s great,” Bokuto shushed him with another kiss to his neck. “Just. C’mon.”   
   
 Akaashi blushed and pressed their lips together.   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 At eighteen, it all changed – again. Not just the whole Tribe, but the Clan had come to the sacred river of the dead. All four Tribes paid tribute, all four Tribes had come out to respect the passing of the Tribe Leader of Fukurodani, the Clan Leader of them all.   
   
 Akaashi, after all, was a name that meant power.   
   
 Power demanded respect.   
   
 They all came to pay respect.   
   
 A special boat was made for their Leader; the adornment was the greatest Akaashi had seen, but he found no pleasure. His mind kept wandering, to the little boat – to Kageyama drifting away, when Akaashi was half his age.   
   
 Shinzen was the first to leave, Ubugawa next, and finally Nekoma.   
   
 Fukurodani stayed, waiting for him to speak.   
   
 Akaashi turned to them. He wore a full mage’s outfit now, black robes, shoulder pads of black feathers and skulls. A cape that looped around his neck like a scarf. “My father is dead.” He let those words sink in as he glanced around. “I know what is said of me, I see what you see… I am not, should not be, Tribe Leader. With my father’s death ends the bloodline of Akaashi ruling over Fukurodani.”   
   
 The crowd’s eyes widened, hands shaking, silent panic.   
   
 “Koutarou Bokuto,” Akaashi said in his commanding voice as he slammed his staff down. He turned to Bokuto, then winced.   
   
 Bokuto looked the most surprised of them all, the most hurt.   
   
 Akaashi turned to him. “I have already spoken with the elders, as well as the other Tribe Leaders. They will allow us to hold the title of Clan Leader, so long as the one leading us forward is you.”   
   
 Bokuto struggled to speak, grasping at straws instead of words.   
   
 “This is for the best.”   
   
 Bokuto took a step forward. “Akaashi, wait! Listen! Stop, I—it’s me! It’s just me! I’m not… You.  _You_ , Akaashi…”   
   
 “You know more than anyone else, what it means to be strong, and what it means to be weak.” Akaashi turned to face him fully, but still kept his voice loud enough that the others would hear. Yes. He needed Fukurodani to see what he saw. “You know what it is to feel wonderful some days, and like nothing other days. And, yet, that never stops you. You inspire confidence, Bokuto. You always do what is right.”   
   
 Bokuto’s jaw snapped shut.   
   
 Akaashi turned away. “Does anyone disagree?” He glanced at the crowd. “Does anyone dissent?”   
   
 Bokuto waited expectantly, and then shivered when there was only silence.   
   
 “Bokuto.” Akaashi glanced his way. “You are our cornerstone. Every festival, every time someone falls ill, you do more than you even understand. You are our leader. I, of all people, know just how powerful your faith in others is, and how that changes people for the better.”   
   
 Bokuto swallowed hard.   
   
 “I do not want to be Clan Leader,” Akaashi lied. “It is not my life,” that was a truth, “I am a mage, not a warrior.”   
   
 “But we need mages too! We need—”   
   
 “Yes,” Akaashi cut in. “I have my duties, as we all do… And I will be with you until the end of your reign, will guide you with whatever knowledge my father has given me, but this throne is yours.”   
   
 “Akaashi.” Bokuto held eye contact firmly. “Are you sure?”   
   
 “Absolutely.”   
   
 “Then…” Bokuto looked at his hands. He swallowed hard. He took a deep breath, squishing his eyes shut. He stood tall, proud, and faced the people. “I am Koutarou Bokuto, Tribe Leader of Fukurodani. Clan Leader.”   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 “That’s.” Akaashi squished his eyes closed, wincing at himself. “That’s not what I meant, Bokuto. I’m just.” He opened his eyes. “I’m asking if you really want this?”   
   
 “I’m giving you my gem, my life.” Bokuto offered the yellow stone again. “I’m asking you for marriage, Akaashi… to live our lives together. Like I said, you don’t have to give me your stone if you don’t want to, but—”   
   
 “I am not worthy,” the words slip out before Akaashi can hold them back. Give Bokuto his stone? Akaashi would give him a thousand stones, and still not be worthy of Bokuto, but. “If you’ll have me… I would never refuse.”   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 Smoke.   
   
 Ashen smoke.   
   
 Not the warm smoke of a campfire; no, this was the wretched smell of burnt flesh, burning of hair. Akaashi’s eyes snapped open. He was in a tent, yes. Not the same tent. Not Bokuto’s tent. He glanced around quickly. Akaashi pushed himself up.   
   
 His body ached.   
   
 Akaashi hid the pain from his face and he took a deep breath. He looked around for his staff and found it lying next to him. He reached for it, and winced. A pained noise left his throat and he grimaced.   
   
 “Oh!” came a surprised voice.   
   
 Akaashi glanced over.   
   
 Konoha was sitting on a chair, chewing on something. He got up and swallowed. “You alright there?”   
   
 “Yes.” Akaashi grabbed his staff, made of warped and twisted blackwood, crowned by a crystalline purple focus stone. He used it to help himself up, despite the pain, and ignored Konoha’s gaze on him. “I needed some rest, but I am fine now.”   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 Akaashi’s face distorted into a scowl. He glanced to the high wall, where archers were lined atop the gates. Smacking the bottom of his staff against the soil, he warped upwards.   
   
 The archers recoiled a bit at his sudden presence.   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes widened.   
   
 The oily shadows, they had come in hundreds, marching together, marching as one.   
   
  _I’m sorry Bokuto,_  he gripped his staff tight and raised his chin.  _I know your soul is in agony…_  He aimed it down, getting ready for the fight to come.  _But you’ll have to wait a little longer._    
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 “Mm.” Kageyama seemed unsure as he made eye contact. “Bokuto… I like him. He’s, good for you.”   
   
 Akaashi swallowed hard.   
   
 “He’s a good Clan Leader as well.”   
   
 “Tobio.” Akaashi said as he stepped forward. “He’s in danger.”   
   
 “Yes.” Kageyama nodded. “Let’s go.”   
   
 “Let’s go…? We?” Akaashi’s eyes widened. “Together?”   
   
 “Unlike the rest, I can’t be corrupted. I’m too close to you.” Kageyama stepped forward. “After all, it’s water’s job to clean… I’ll guide you to our last.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhhhh~ and here's the last piece. I wanted to do something fantasy and slightly nonlinear, and I'm happy with how this fic turned out. It was very different from my usual stories, so~ I feel accomplished in a way! 
> 
> You can always hit me up on [Tumblr (Remembrance123)](remembrance123.tumblr.com), [Twitter (Remembrance123)](https://twitter.com/Remembrance123), Skype (remmy-rem), Discord (RemRem#8656) or even here on AO3! I'm going to be posting a fic/chapter/update once a week (either Saturday or Sunday), so if you enjoyed my writing style feel free to keep supporting. <3
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy the last chapter of The Nighthawk!
> 
> * * *

 Side by side, the two of them walked through the forest. Oily shadows came in scores, but strikes of lightning and whirlpools of water struck back. Akaashi held his staff, holding himself proudly. Truly, for the first time, he felt free of a guilt that had been crushing him. He glanced over to Kageyama.   
   
 Kageyama walked, broadsword in hand. It was made of the same starlights that he was, and he swung with such proficiency—immaculate precision—that it left Akaashi in awe.   
   
 Truly, Kageyama was what his father had dreamed of having.   
   
 But Akaashi found he had no envy. No. As he struck with lightning, he felt equally as powerful. “These beasts are not as fast as they once were.”   
   
 “Yes,” Kageyama murmured. “The forest beneath their feet slows down their every step. But… here.” Kageyama walked over to where roots parted, where the ground became dark and decrepit. Red lines traced the ground, corrupt magic, volatile.   
   
 To Akaashi, they appeared like magma, though they were not as hot. They looked like veins, though, and he assumed that if he followed… he would find the heart.   
   
 “There.” Kageyama nudged his chin, motioning forward.   
   
 Akaashi frowned, trying to see what that was in the distance. He saw several structures, abandoned, but there was something warped and shining. “That very same red light, except… It is not so maddening, or?”   
   
 “The light is his,” Kageyama explained. “Our kin shine blue because we do not have him. They have been using me to shine.”   
   
 Akaashi glanced over.   
   
 “The colours red and blue are not inherently good or evil, but they belong to us. The one whom red belongs to was taken… They got him, and use him as their engine.” Kageyama scowled. “That, beast, it attacked us… It wanted all five of us, but  _he_  saved us. Sacrificed himself, so we would be able to retreat. Even with Yamaguchi burned, Yachi gone mad, these were better outcomes than what would have happened if he’d captured more of us.”   
   
 Akaashi frowned. “So, your fifth sacrificed himself to save you all from the enemy’s onslaught, the enemy captured the fifth, and now uses your fifth as the engine to assault the forest.”   
   
 “Exactly.”   
   
 Akaashi felt his brand pulsating.   
   
 “Are you afraid?”   
   
 “I am,” Akaashi admitted. “But we carry it within us – the will. The will to do what’s right, even if I am afraid. I shall move forward.”   
   
 Kageyama nodded. “Then… I have a plan.”   
   
 “I am all ears, Brother.”   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 It was an assault, blasts of thunder, pulses of water. They fought back to back in the ruins of some temple. Kageyama’s blade and Akaashi’s staff, both being swung to repel the forces. The crowd of them was being thinned and there was a sound of a cry.   
   
 Kageyama frowned. “Go!” He swung his blade, sending a wave of water outwards. “Cleanse the spirit!”   
   
 Akaashi did not hesitate; he ran. A part of him longed to be by Kageyama’s side, but he pushed those thoughts out of his mind. He ran up the steps, to the highest point of the temple. It was above the treeline, many steps up.   
   
 There was a boy, a spirit, but with what seemed to be a physical and oily form. His skin was wood-like, though it seemed to go in and out of existence. Occasionally it altered into red lights that glimmered like stars, and then back again.   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes widened.   
   
 They were forcing the spirit into the physical realm.   
   
 The spirit curled its wooden fingers and screamed. It was chained at both wrists and ankles, limbs stretched out around a red crystal. The boy screamed and screamed, being torn open from the inside. A metaphysical tear forcing him between the physical and the spiritual realms.   
   
 Akaashi dropped to one knee. “Spirit!” He looked up, firm. “I am Keiji Akaashi, I am husband of Clan Leader Koutarou Bokuto.”   
   
 The spirit glanced at him, sunrise eyes burning as he yelled.   
   
 “Spirit!” Akaashi raised his voice, “I am here to save you! To return you to sanity!”   
   
 The spirit only kept screaming, thrashing against the immovable chains.   
   
 Akaashi stood and frowned. This spirit, this one was… powerful. Akaashi wasn’t sure why or how he knew that, but he did and it made him press on. “Spirit! I—”   
   
 “No! No more!” The spirit thrashed. “No, no, no, no! No more! No more nurturing… no more rising… I can’t… I can’t do it anymore…”   
   
 Akaashi hesitated. His eyes looked down, dancing along the stones of the pavements as he tried to think of what to do. “Spirit,” he repeated, “What is your name?”   
   
 “Sh-Shou…” The boy looked at him. “Shouyou.”   
   
 “Shouyou,” Akaashi repeated, eyes widening.   
   
 “Shouyou Hinata!”   
   
 “You’re.” Akaashi felt his grip loosen on his staff, but he caught it before it fell. “You’re the one Kenma spoke of.”   
   
 “Kenma,” Hinata repeated. “Kenma…?” He seemed confused, but his form seemed to beat twice—like a heartbeat. His wooden skin seemed to soften and it curl. “Kenma…”   
   
 “Kenma Kozume,” Akaashi pressed on. “You remember him, yes?”   
   
 “Yeah, yeah I…”   
   
 “He thinks about you, remembers you.”   
   
 Hinata gasped.   
   
 “He’s… guilty. He feels guilty, because—”   
   
 “No! No!” Hinata shook his head, form changing ethereal for a moment before it turned back to wood. “It wasn’t his fault! It wasn’t his fault!”   
   
 “People blame—” Akaashi squeezed his grip around his staff, the staff that was a memento of his mother, of the mother he killed. “People blame themselves for things that can’t be changed… It’s. It’s foolish.” His knuckles turned white. “But that’s how we are. It’s not right, but we—”   
   
 “It’s not right!” Hinata repeated, skin warping into a constellation of stars. “It’s not!”   
   
 Akaashi looked away.   
   
 Hinata yanked the chains—shattering them in a burst of orange light.   
   
 Akaashi looked back, eyes widening. “Shouyou Hinata.”   
   
 Hinata’s spirit form drifted to the stones of the forgotten temple. He opened his eyes and looked at his hands. Shimmering reds and oranges.   
   
 “I am Keiji Akaashi.”   
   
 Hinata looked up.   
   
 “I am trying to save this forest,” Akaashi explained, “Trying to save Storm Tree, save Kenma, save everyone.”   
   
 “Akaashi…” Hinata’s smile was radiant. “You care about the Clan, all of them?”   
   
 “I do.” Akaashi closed his eyes. “A dark dawn has descended on our people.”   
   
 “But the sun will rise again.”   
   
 Akaashi opened his eyes, staring.   
   
 “Sunlight, dusk, morning light.” Hinata grinned. “That’s right, I… I chose that task! I chose to take that burden… I wanted to fill people with hope, with light. Kenma and I… we weren’t from this forest, we weren’t from this Clan, but I wanted him to be happy, to find people he could call a family—in his own way.”   
   
 Akaashi stayed silent, almost mesmerised by the orange lights.   
   
 “I let the light shine down on him,” Hinata explained, “I led him to Kuroo. I, uh. I never expected the happiness they found, you know? But now I’m… I was chained. Still, chained…” He moved his hands aside, showing burning black-red bruises around his wrists.   
   
 Akaashi looked down to Hinata’s ankles, gasping as he saw them there.   
   
 The chains lurched out again.   
   
 Akaashi roared, “No!”   
   
 But Hinata was slammed back against the red crystal, chained again. He shut his eyes, refusing to give in. “I can’t rise… but I won’t ever let myself be the damn beast’s ray of hope!” He grunted, his form shaking as he struggled to fight it back. “The sunlight won’t reach the forest! It’s from the light that plants grow, and without it Storm Tree will—”   
   
 Like missiles blasting through the sky, four beads of light shot forward, shimmering blue and vibrant.   
   
 Akaashi used a hand to shield his eyes from the impact, feeling a gust of power rustle his cape and robes.   
   
 The chains were no more, as were the bruises, but Hinata began to fall.   
   
 Akaashi—again—reached out for him.   
   
 A whip of water raced faster.   
   
 “Dumbass!”   
   
 “Ah!”   
   
 Kageyama caught Hinata at the last moment, bringing him close, nuzzling his hair. “You idiot. If you ever sacrifice yourself like that again I will kill you!”   
   
 “I…” Hinata blinked, smiling up at him. He tapped Kageyama’s chin playfully, grinning. “Knew… you’d come get me.”   
   
 “Shut it.”   
   
 Akaashi watched, blinking, hands tightening around his staff.   
   
 But the earth shook beneath his feet, the storm clouds rolled in, and the air became stale.   
   
 Akaashi spun around to see something like an ominous shadow dive into the forest. There was a sound of a sudden roar. “What… was that?”   
   
 “That,” said Tsukishima, “Was the source of all corruption.”   
   
 “Yes.” Yamaguchi nodded. “That is your enemy, the nemesis.”   
   
 Akaashi frowned. “But, I thought—”   
   
 “A-Ah.” Yachi bounced on her feet. “Hinata was the battery, to charge the enemy’s army… but the heart of this all lives on still.”   
   
 “And,” Kageyama continued, “It must be destroyed.”   
   
 Akaashi walked towards the steps. “Then, if I defeat that… it ends.”   
   
 “Keiji!”   
   
 Akaashi blinked, looking over his shoulder.   
   
 Hinata was barely standing, with Kageyama’s help. “Call on us, if you need help.”   
   
 Kageyama scowled. “You’re too weak!”   
   
 Yachi shook her head. “No… the enemy knows where we are, what we’re doing, and he has Bokuto.”   
   
 Akaashi tensed. “Bokuto.”   
   
 “We’ll be ready,” Hinata went on. “We won’t be at our full power, but—ngh!” He winced, falling down to his knees.   
   
 Yamaguchi rushed to aid Kageyama help Hinata.   
   
 Tsukishima adjusted his spectral glasses. “We may not be able to help…”   
   
 “But, regardless…” Yachi looked at Akaashi, eyes filled with tears. “It’s time.”   
   
 “It’s time,” Akaashi repeated. “It ends.”   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 “Kenma?” Kuroo looked around the camp, suddenly feeling tense. “Kenma?”   
   
 “Oi,” Konoha’s voice caught his ear. “You’re looking for your kitten? He’s been atop the wall for a while now, looking out.”   
   
 Kuroo glanced up and spotted him. He rushed up to climb the wall then approached Kenma with caution and care. “Kitten?”   
   
 Kenma stiffened upon hearing Kuroo’s voice, but didn’t look away. His eyes were firmly glued to something in the distance.   
   
 “I’m not saying you have to report in when I call for you.” Kuroo stood next to him. “But you do it so often I get kind of freaked out when you don’t come.”   
   
 “I didn’t hear you.”   
   
 “You…?” Kuroo blinked. “What’s got your attention? Got spooked by that roar?”   
   
 “No.” Kenma stared out. “I just, I heard something.”   
   
 “You mean, besides the earthquakes and the howling wind?”   
   
 “Mm. It was something else.”   
   
 “Like what?”   
   
 “It sounded like…” Kenma looked away, eyes frowning as he thought. “It sounded like… sunlight.”   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 Akaashi walked towards the grove, following his feet. The forest moved with him, clearing any twigs or stones out of his way. He could feel the forest, and he thanked it with every step he took, asking it to be with him on this final battle. His staff was drawn, mind clear, focused. His shoulders felt light, and he thought of his duty.   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 “But I can go!” Lev insisted, “I can help!”   
   
 “No you idiot!” Yaku grabbed him and pulled him in. “You can’t!”   
   
 “I can!” Lev frowned. “You always underestimate me!”   
   
 “I do!” Yaku agreed, “I always underestimate you and I try to shut you up! You’re brilliant, Lev! You’re fucking brilliant!”   
   
 Lev blinked. “Then… why—?”   
   
 “Because!” Yaku looked down. “Because I’m scared… I know you’ve helped in the past, I know you’re capable, I just… You’re not made for fights, Lev, you’re not good at seeing what’s around you. That scares me. You’re going to get hurt and I don’t want that! I  _care about you,_  don’t you understand that yet!?”   
   
 Lev blinked again, speechless this time.   
   
 “But listen, this isn’t our fight.” Yaku shook his head. “You know more than I do, these things are made of corrupt magics. Warriors, archers… researchers… We’re not the ones who can fix this.”   
   
 “Then.” Lev tilted his head. “Who can?”   
   
 “Who else?”   
   
 Lev blinked.   
   
 “A mage.”   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 Akaashi walked to the grove, a place where the trees seemed to part. The grass was the colour of moonlight, and the air smelled stale like corruption. Akaashi twitched his nose and stopped walking. He put his staff down. Something told him, something told him that… here. Exactly here. Here he would find what he sought.   
   
 And he did.   
   
 It descended—   
   
 An oily shadow, great in size, wingspan wider than most trees were tall, a beak horrid and deformed, dripping with corruption. Its great talons were sharp, capable of grabbing a whole person in them with ease. Two eyes, burning black and lifeless. Feathers like twisted spikes…   
   
 Akaashi raised his chin.   
   
 Their nemesis. He had never seen it before, but without a doubt he knew this was their nemesis. Their sworn enemy. Its name was—   
   
 Akaashi gripped his staff tight.   
   
 Its name was—   
   
  _The Nighthawk._    
   
 Akaashi took in a small breath of air.   
   
 The Nighthawk held a low watery growl within its oily form. It raised its wings into what could have been a battle stance. Its eyes never looked away, ready to strike.   
   
 “You…” Akaashi’s eyes widened. “You are a sentient creature.”   
   
  _ **“I am.”**_    
   
 Akaashi’s eyed widened. He heard the voice in his mind, shaking his skull. He almost dropped his staff. He took a step back. “You… have Bokuto?”   
   
  _ **“I do.”**_    
   
 Akaashi was ready for it the second time, but the assault to his mind made him suddenly feel insecure, small, like a butterfly trying to fight a golem. Except, in this case, the Nighthawk could fly, and he could not. He readied his staff. “Return him!”   
   
 The Nighthawk screeched in defiance.   
   
 Akaashi blasted thunder.   
   
 The bird leapt forward.   
   
 Akaashi rolled to the side, narrowly dodging its beak. He got up and spun, sending whips of thunder.   
   
 The bird moved behind some trees, form blending with the shadows.   
   
 Akaashi gasped, looking all around him.   
   
 The Nighthawk appeared from his side, baring beak and talons.   
   
 Akaashi dodged again by throwing himself back.   
   
 The Nighthawk chased.   
   
 Akaashi begged the forest for clear passage and he found himself blurring to impossible speeds between the trees, swiping his staff, sending volts of thunder towards the bird.   
   
 His enemy was hit twice, wincing, but dodged the rest. He soared to the side, disappearing into the thicket of the woods.   
   
 Akaashi spun around, running forward.   
   
 The Nighthawk’s form appeared at his side—several paces away.   
   
 The two ran, side by side, seeing each other through the blur of trees between them.   
   
 Akaashi volted thunder.   
   
 The Nighthawk rose above the rays and screeched before shooting beams of corrupt, swirling black oil.   
   
 The beams fired not at where he was, but where he would be—Akaashi slid under one to dodge, and used a blast of thunder to block a second.   
   
 The Nighthawk fired again.   
   
 Akaashi changed directions, blasting towards the Nighthawk.   
   
 The Nighthawk spun around to face him, shooting the oil from his own form, like chains lurching towards him.   
   
 Akaashi spun his staff to block two and dashed forward to dodge a third and fourth. His eyes narrowed. He soared upwards as he dodged a fifth and raised his staff high. The convulsion of electricity started at the base of his staff and surged through the warpwood before it was magnified in the purple jewel atop. With a roar, he released his strongest blast yet, pouring everything into the beam.   
   
 The Nighthawk howled in pain as it was flung back. It threw itself forward, snapping its beak.   
   
 Akaashi barely dodged the beak, but was smacked by a wing—sent flying through the woods. His body hit a thick branch and he cried out as he fell down.   
   
 The Nighthawk gave chase.   
   
 Akaashi flipped midair and landed. His cape was a cowl that wrapped around his neck like a scarf; finding it annoying, in his way, he pulled it off and threw it away in a whip of fabric. He raised his spear like a javelin. “Now!” Rings of purple magic expanded around him, impossibly complex patterns lining the surface.   
   
 The Nighthawk was almost upon him.   
   
 Akaashi gathered all of his strength and—with a warcry mightier than any warrior—he surged pure power into the beast. It came out as a thick column of lightning, crashing against the Nighthawk and heaving into him, through him, bursting out the other side.   
   
 The Nighthawk screamed and was thrown back, crashing against several trees.   
   
 Akaashi poured everything he had into the spell, until the tip of his staff sputtered out white bits of electricity that couldn’t connect into a beam.   
   
 The Nighthawk lay in a collection of overturned trees, crumpled.   
   
 Akaashi dropped his staff and his stance, the magic circles fading. He fell to his knees, taking a moment to collect himself. Bokuto. His eyes snapped open. He stood up, grabbing his staff and walked over. The Nighthawk seemed lifeless, but Akaashi could still sense a dying power left in it. “Bokuto,” he said, “Where is Bokuto?”   
   
 The Nighthawk turned its head towards him. Its eyes were glaring.   
   
 Akaashi hesitated for a moment before he got closer. “What are you, nemesis?”   
   
 The Nighthawk seethed with hatred.   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes softened. “Do you hate the Clan? Is that what all this hatred is for?”   
   
  _ **“The clan?”**_    
   
 Again, Akaashi shivered, feeling the words shake his skull.   
   
  _ **“I gave my life for the Clan… it is not the Clan, I hate. It is its future that burns too dim, that must be corrected.”**_  
   
 “You…” Akaashi’s eyes widened with understanding. “Do not hate the clan. You…” He looked the Nighthawk in its eyes. “Hate… me?”   
   
  _ **“Yes.”**_    
   
 A breeze blew gentle between them.   
   
 “Father.”   
   
 Stillness.   
   
 “You were dying,” Akaashi realised, “And you knew I was going to be Clan Leader… As your body began to die, your spirit becoming undead, your madness took root in the world of the living. You attacked your own Tribe in your madness. Because I was next in line…”   
   
  _ **“I wanted to show them… how powerless you were.”**_    
   
 Akaashi took a step back.   
   
  _ **“You could not defeat me, could not stop me… when the last of my body burned away, I attacked the Tribe. You sent me through the river, and announced Bokuto as the Clan Leader.”**_    
   
 “The attacks stopped the next day,” Akaashi recalled. “It was the proof everyone needed that Bokuto was the rightful heir.”   
   
  _ **“My terror brought a new age… You were unfit to rule, and you gave it up. Bokuto was always a true warrior, not some… spellbook mongrel!”**_    
   
 “You branded me,” Akaashi recalled. “To hinder my powers.”   
   
  _ **“I planned on killing you from the moment I knew what you truly were.”**_  The Nighthawk’s eyes burned brighter.  _ **“A failure that must be erased!”**_    
   
 “You—”   
   
  _ **“I branded you, to lull you, Keiji… into your weakest, most pathetic form.”**_    
   
 Akaashi’s eyes widened.   
   
 One great talon kicked out.   
   
 Akaashi was sent flying and he cried, dropping his staff. He instantly opened his eyes, looking for it, but—   
   
 The Nighthawk had flown towards him. With one talon, he grabbed Akaashi and took to the sky.   
   
 “No!” Akaashi yelled as he reached for his staff, but it was impossible.   
   
  _ **“You should have seen my surprise…”**_  The Nighthawk surged upwards high above the clouds.  _ **“When you and Bokuto were to be wed.”**_  It spread its wings.  _ **“It seems you and I were always the same—hungry for power! Did you think by wedding Bokuto, you could have your title back?”**_    
   
 Akaashi was going to reply when—   
   
  _ **“Silence!”**_  The talon squeezed Akaashi, slowly crushing him.  _ **“Did you think I would allow it? Never. This, this is what destiny you should have had!”**_    
   
 Akaashi was wondering what was going to happen, when the talon opened.   
   
  _ **“Fall.”**_    
   
 Akaashi surged downwards, winds racing upwards as he sputtered, trying to think of something, anything. He was powerless. At the end of it all, no spell would work, he didn’t even have his staff, and he was falling to the ground, accelerating. He would surge down into the forest, and the soil would crush him.   
   
 Even if he were to ask the forest for help now, it would be able to do nothing.   
   
 Akaashi continued to fall.   
   
 He screwed his eyes shut.   
   
  _Bokuto,_  he thought to himself.  _I wasn’t enough! I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… I wasn’t enough, I—_    
   
 The howling of the wind was piercing his ears.   
   
  _I’m sorry, Bokuto. In the end… I really was...  
   
 I really was, a failure._   
   
 Akaashi accepted death.   
   
 He continued to fall.   
   
 But a voice came to him.   
   
  _“When you move like that… it’s like you’re wind. It’s like you fly, Akaashi.”_    
   
 Akaashi’s eyes widened. The Nighthawk was nothing but a dot in the sky now, and he had no doubt he was close to the ground, but—   
   
  _“When you’re focused, Akaashi… it’s like your feet barely touch the ground. You’re magical, Akaashi. Everything about you is magical. You can—_    
   
 Akaashi felt magic pool into him.   
   
  _“You can fly.”_    
   
 He thought of the brand that coursed over his back, over his arms, his wrists, the back of his hands—   
   
 “Father,” Akaashi whispered. He screwed his eyes shut. “My brand… is no more!”   
   
 With one burst of light—his brand shattered.   
   
 Akaashi soared upwards, into the sky.   
   
 The Nighthawk’s eyes widened.   
   
 “Nighthawk!” Akaashi’s eyes snapped open. Blending seamlessly out of his robe, two wings—starting black, but white in the middle, and black again near the tips—formed out of his back. “My magic comes from the world around me, and you have threatened that very world!”   
   
 The Nighthawk screeched.   
   
 “My future,” Akaashi said as he thought of Bokuto, “My home,” Konoha, Sarukui, “My dreams,” Lev, “My friends,” Kenma, “My family—” Kageyama. Akaashi could feel power welling up inside him. His hand crackled with lightning and something surged up from the ground to meet him. His staff. The staff was a gift, he remembered, from his mother—the person who gave him her everything. “Father, hear me!”   
   
 The Nighthawk released a scream.   
   
 “This forest has empowered me!” Akaashi tightened his grip on his staff. The sky seemed endless, but every storm cloud rolled with his heartbeat. “This world has accepted me!” The sky cackled with dancing thunders. “The only thing that has ever rejected me—was you!”   
   
 The Nighthawk shot towards him.   
   
 Akaashi blasted forward to meet it.   
   
 The Nighthawk gave two snaps of its beak and blasted several beams of corrupt oil.   
   
  _“Keiji,”_  Kageyama’s voice echoed in his mind,  _“We’re with you.”_    
   
  _Then…_  Akaashi flew around the shots of oil, dodging downwards before surging upwards.  _You had best be ready!_    
   
  _“Neh, don’t you worry about that!”_  Hinata said,  _“We are.”_    
   
  _“Yes,”_  Yamaguchi guaranteed,  _“All of us.”_    
   
 The Nighthawk screamed and dove again.   
   
 Akaashi spun and blasted a beam of lightning.   
   
  _“You can do it,”_  Yachi assured,  _“After all—when I said the King of Owls…”_    
   
 Tsukishima scoffed.  _“She meant you.”_    
   
 Akaashi’s eyes widened. He narrowly dodged another beam of darkness and backed away. “Father…” He growled low. “Your hatred has bled many lives from our Clan, and I will not allow you to go unpunished!” He opened his free hand, and five multicolour beads of light swirled around him. He grabbed his staff skyward. The forest was with him.   
   
 No.   
   
 The sky was as well.   
   
 The very world was with him.   
   
 “The sky belongs to those whose hearts have the will to fly,” Akaashi roared as he brought his staff down, “And I will not allow it to house your wretched wings!”   
   
 Snakelike beams of electricity shot down from every cloud, pounding with claps that echoed, burning bright light convulsed on a single point, hitting the Nighthawk from every angle. It screamed, but the sound was drowned out by a sky set aflame by sound and light.   
   
 Akaashi roared.   
   
 The sky roared with him.   
   
 Akaashi felt the bead of lights swirl in his staff and he shot another spell forward.   
   
 And the source of all darkness was drowned out in one – final – strike of lightning.   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 In a little cove, a small pocket in the forest…   
   
 Bokuto, groggily, opened his eyes. He felt vines around him pull away. He didn’t know where he was, or why he was here, but he felt the sleep being pulled from him as if it wasn’t real, wasn’t natural. He looked around and sat up. He had been sleeping on some raised slab of stone. He frowned, scratching his head, not really sure what to make of it.   
   
 “You look as relaxed as ever.”   
   
 Bokuto’s spine went straight. He knew that voice. He spun towards it, yelling, “Akaaaaaash…i…”   
   
 Akaashi stood tall, smile on his face. His cape was gone, but he wore his usual robe, shoulder pads adorned with feathers and bone. But the one thing Bokuto saw that made him pause was—   
   
 “Wings.”   
   
 Akaashi’s smile widened. “Do you like them, Clan Leader?”   
   
 “Ah—uh, I. Me? Y-Yeah!” Bokuto blinked. “Can I play with your wings?”   
   
 Akaashi snorted.   
   
 “Holy crap, Akaashi… You’re beautiful.”   
   
 Akaashi laughed.   
   
 Bokuto’s eyes widened.   
   
 It was one of the rare laughs that Akaashi truly let himself let go.   
   
 “But, um.” Bokuto frowned. “Are they…”   
   
 “They’re not permanent, no.” Akaashi stepped closer. “They’re just magic. The winds are with me, they led me to you… and now.” He took Bokuto’s hand. “They’ll lead us home.”   
   
 “Ah.” Bokuto grinned. “You know, you finally look the part.”   
   
 Akaashi blinked. “I’m sorry? I look the part?”   
   
 “Mm.” Bokuto reached in his pocket and pulled out a purple stone, a stone made of Akaashi’s lifeforce. “I was gonna ask… if, um… If we are wed… We could share the role, you know. Rule together.” Bokuto’s grin widened as he looked up again. “You finally look the part, Clan Leader.”   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 The Tribes had spent days preparing the feast that finally took place. The celebrations were high, meats aplenty, and drinks were always full. The sky thundered and the people took to drumming, chanting their songs of war, tales of warriors. Akaashi had been teased by a few that soon there would be a song in his name. He brushed it off. He had spent most of the night by Bokuto’s side, watching him enjoy the festivities.   
   
 “Bah!” Sarukui laughed. “You didn’t even do anything, Bokuto!”   
   
 “Hey!” Bokuto yelled, “That’s not… totally true!”   
   
 Akaashi laughed.   
   
 Finally had come that one time Akaashi was dreading, speeches. The drumming had come to a slow rhythm before it paused when Bokuto and Akaashi stood atop the central stage, at the base of Storm Tree.   
   
 “Hey heyy heeeeyyy!” Bokuto yelled, giving two victory signs to the crowd. “Everyone!” He grinned. “The Nighthawk, is dead.”   
   
 They all cheered, screaming their chants, clapping excitedly.   
   
 Akaashi took a deep breath.   
   
 Bokuto gave him a nod.   
   
 “There had been a spirit, born of hatred, born of regrets and anguish,” Akaashi explained. “It is now… vanquished. Never again will oily shadows prey on our young, haunt and hunt our soldiers and warriors. To the many that we have lost, to them we drink and we feast. To them!”   
   
 They cheered.   
   
 “But!” Bokuto yelled, getting a glare from Akaashi – as nothing else had been agreed on. “To one more, we feast.”   
   
 “To you!” yelled someone from the crowd, “For the return of our Clan Leader!”   
   
 “No, no! Not me!” Bokuto laughed heartily at the confusion. His smile softened and he glanced to Akaashi. “When I was thirteen… Keiji told me, that this was a Warriors Clan. That it had no place for mages. But, it was his magics that repelled the Nighthawk, and it was his connection to nature that restored the great Storm Tree!”   
   
 The branches seemed to sway in assent.   
   
 “It was thanks to him… that I’m here. It’s thanks to him, that we have our home.”   
   
 Akaashi took a small breath. “Koutarou…”   
   
 Bokuto just smiled.   
   
 Akaashi stepped forward. “We are warriors!” They roared in agreeance. “But we are also mages! And rogues. Researchers, archers… What unites us is not the weapon we wield, what ties us to this home is not a way of life that only some of us follow. The elder warriors who can no longer wield weapons are not considered useless. They are considered champions. What, then, defines us?”   
   
 There was no answer.   
   
 “What, then?” Akaashi asked the crowd once more. He hit the base of his staff against the stage. “It is the spirit within each of us. A warrior’s heart beats in every chest here, whether you are born here or have travelled to this place. The drive to do what must be done, the will to do what’s right, the courage to see it through, and the spirit of the Clan and the forest that we inherit together.”   
   
 The crowd stared silent, but listening. Listening louder than voices could ever convey.   
   
 “I was intended to be Clan Leader, as most of you know. The name Akaashi is a name of power. I would be Clan Leader, like my father before me.” He could sense the fear, the stillness. “But. I would not be here today, if it were not for Bokuto.”   
   
 Bokuto stepped forward. “And I wouldn’t be here without you.”   
   
 “Then.” Akaashi reached in his pocket, pulling out a yellow stone. “With the Four Tribes as our witness.”   
   
 In the crowd, Kenma’s eyes widened.   
   
 Konoha’s jaw dropped.   
   
 Bokuto pulled out his purple stone. “We are one.”   
   
 They let go of their stones and they drifted upwards, swirling together.   
   
 “With the Clan’s blessings,” Bokuto said, “We would co-rule.”   
   
 Kuroo’s voice shouted, “Nekoma gives its blessing!”   
   
 “Shinzen gives its blessing!”   
   
 “Ubugawa gives its blessing!”   
   
 The stones shattered; the life force within weaving cords around their third fingers, forming rings.   
   
 Quietly, only to Akaashi, Bokuto whispered, “We are wed.”   
   
 “We are wed,” Akaashi replied, in disbelief. He turned to the crowd. “Now!” He slammed his staff down—arcs of thunder blasted down, lighting the torches all around them. “The feast has yet to begin! More food comes!”   
   
 The crowd cheered.   
   
 Akaashi, turning to Bokuto, couldn’t help but smile. And he was sure he could feel that smile when Bokuto pulled him close, taking in a big kiss.   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 “Ah,” Kuroo’s voice teased, “Quite the show.”   
   
 Akaashi walked towards the pair in front of them, quite a distance away from the rest of the crowd. Akaashi nodded. “Too loud for you?”   
   
 Kuroo nudged him. “He’s talking to you.”   
   
 “Mm.” Kenma glanced back. “Yes. I… enjoyed it, though.”   
   
 Akaashi nodded. He opened his hand. “I have something for you.”   
   
 Kenma stood up from the river he was sitting in front of. He tilted his head.   
   
 Akaashi tossed what appeared to be a stone.   
   
 Kenma caught it curiously. “What is it?”   
   
 “He starts his duties six in the morning, sharp.” Akaashi walked further down the river line. “You have until then, but you can always see him again.”   
   
 Kenma opened his mouth to speak; but, in that moment, he looked down. He opened his hand and saw an orange bead of light. Eyes widening, Kenma gasped for air. His eyes filled with tears and he brought his other hand to his mouth.   
   
 Akaashi walked away, smiling to himself.   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 The water lapped together, and soon spectral footsteps rippled on its surface. Akaashi noticed them, but didn’t call out. He wasn’t entirely surprised when the shape took its full form and walked alongside him.   
   
 “Thank you,” Kageyama said, “For doing that.”   
   
 “It felt right.”   
   
 “I’m glad… that Kenma and Shouyou get to meet again.”   
   
 “Shouyou and Kenma, they’re a bit like light and darkness, those two.” Akaashi laughed. “Shouyou, he’s important to you, Tobio?”   
   
 “He is.” Kageyama looked away, awkwardly. “He is… a lot of things.”   
   
 Akaashi laughed. “I could say the same about Koutarou.”   
   
 Kageyama blushed.   
   
 Akaashi was more amused by the fact a spirit  _could_  blush.   
   
 “Keiji.”   
   
 Akaashi paused, glancing at him.   
   
 Kageyama took a deep breath. “In life… I never knew her, obviously… but in death, we…” He frowned. “We get along, and talk, a lot… She wanted me to tell you something.”   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes widened, his heart beating heavy. “She?” he asked, despite knowing—   
   
 “Your mother.” Kageyama stared at him. “She wants me to tell you that…”   
   
 Akaashi silently took a breath.   
   
 “She’s so… so proud of you.”   
   
 Akaashi’s whole body seemed to shake. He couldn’t speak.   
   
 But it seemed Kageyama didn’t expect him to. He gave a small nod, before he dispersed.   
   
 Akaashi took in a huge gulp of air.   
   
 “Keiji?” came Bokuto’s voice.   
   
 Akaashi spun. “How—” He swallowed hard, collecting himself. “How did. How did you find me?”   
   
 “Uh, duh?” Bokuto grinned. “The forest led me to you.”   
   
 Akaashi’s eyes widened.   
   
 “What’s wrong?”   
   
 “Just… good news. Come. Let’s go by the lakeside.”   
   
   
 ~ ~ ~   
   
   
 Akaashi was sitting on a rock, watching the lake lick up the shores. Bokuto sat next to him, on a separate rock. Bokuto seemed to understand he needed silence now. Bokuto always understood. Akaashi looked at him, murmuring, “Thank you.”   
   
 Bokuto blinked. “Huh?”   
   
 “Nothing.” Akaashi smiled. “Let’s talk about something.”   
   
 “Oh! Uh, sure!” Bokuto grinned. “They love you, Keiji. The Clan.”   
   
 “Indeed.” Akaashi nodded. “I’m rather surprised by it.”   
   
 Bokuto stared blankly.   
   
 Akaashi looked at him. “What?”   
   
 Bokuto stared, eyebrows furrowing together. “They love you.”   
   
 “Yes, you said.”   
   
 “No, I mean…”   
   
 Akaashi tilted his head.   
   
 “They always have.”   
   
 Akaashi twitched, raising an eyebrow. “They have not.”   
   
 “No, they… they always have.” Bokuto frowned. “You just couldn’t see it, Keiji… you were just so… in your head, y’know? So ashamed of being you… you couldn’t see it.”   
   
 Akaashi frowned. “That’s impossible, they…” He frowned.   
   
  _Lies—_    
  _Again with their distrust—_    
  _He just wants me gone, as a mage—_    
   
 Akaashi’s frown deepened.  _Lies—_ “They… were, not lies?” His eyes were fixated on a nonexistent point. “Is that… so?”   
   
 “Of course.”   
   
 “I see.”   
   
 “Hah!” Bokuto grinned. “You know, Keiji, when they talk about me they always get surprised. How can someone so dumb be so smart? But. I think that’s why we match! Because when I think about you, it’s like. How can someone so smart be so  _dumb?”_    
   
 Akaashi scoffed a laugh. “Truly…”   
   
 Bokuto grinned. “But you’re perfect. Absolutely perfect.”   
   
 “Flawed,” Akaashi corrected. “But perhaps… perhaps that’s what it means to be perfect.”   
   
 “Hey, Akaashi?”   
   
 Akaashi smirked, knowing Bokuto’s mind had drifted, and he had a feeling he knew exactly where they went to.   
   
 “Can I play with your wings again?”   
   
 Akaashi laughed. “The spellwork is quite… difficult, if I am being honest.”   
   
 “Is…” Bokuto deflated. “Is that a no?”   
   
 “Well.” Akaashi did his best to hide a smile. “If I want to perfect the spell, practice makes perfect, no?”   
   
 Bokuto’s eyes lit up.   
   
 “Yes, Koutarou.” Akaashi began weaving his magic. “You may play with my wings, Clan Leader.”   
   
 “Glad to hear it.” Bokuto grinned. “Clan Leader.” 


End file.
